


Dreams Come True

by KimiMeagan



Series: Thedas Through The Eyes Of Informative Strangers [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Anders' (Dragon Age) Spicy Shimmy, Anders' Electricity Trick, Arranged Marriage, Awkward Romance, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Canon Gay Character, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Cultural References, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dick Jokes, Dwarves are Dicks, Elven Glory, Elves are Dicks, Enchantment, Everyone Is A Dick At Some Point, F/F, F/M, Facts, Fifth Blight, Gen, Help, I Always Over-Tag, I hate tagging, M/M, Magic, Magic Needs Its Own Tag, Major Character Undeath, Major character death - Freeform, Marriage, Married Life, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, One Of Them Gets So Much Wang, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Post-Blight, Qunari Culture and Customs, Qunari are Dicks, Shapeshifting, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, So Many Perverts, So many facts, Sorry Not Sorry, Spells & Enchantments, Spirits, Spoilers, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Take My Keyboard Away, The Blight (Dragon Age), Thedas, There's Two Of Them, This Story Will Be A Hot Mess At Times, Times Two!, Two Modern Girls In Thedas, Weird Plot Shit, humans are dicks, inappropriate use of magic, nerd references, not gonna lie, perverts, so many dicks, so many spoilers, too many tags, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5312990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimiMeagan/pseuds/KimiMeagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relationship tags were removed; Will update them as the story progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What The Shit Just Happened?

The world was tilting. Up was down, down was left, and left was...

_Where the fuck was left?_

Liv shifted once, moving to sit up, and could only groan as she let herself grow still once more. Her spine ached. What time was it? Or, better yet, what did she drink last night? There were times she hated being legal... then she reminded herself that she was drinking long before then. Her temples ached and the backs of her eyes throbbed in time with each beat of her heart. Liv wasn't sure what kind of night she had last night – it was all a blur, really – but she was certain that this was the worst hangover she had ever had.

And she didn't normally get hangovers, at that.

There was something weighing down her head, outside of her pounding skull, and Liv sluggishly dragged one of her hands up from the ground – _great, she had either fallen asleep outside or collapsed there_ – and to the top of her head. And wrapped around something... Smooth... long... it got smaller the further up Liv dragged her hand until she stopped.

… _The fuck?_

Forcing her eyes open, and wincing against the light slapping against her irises, Liv shifted to sit up and see what was on her head. No one better have glued something there in their drunken state or she would be cutting off _**limbs**_... She stopped when she noticed something odd out of the corner of her eyes. Trees, lots of damn trees, and a murky grey sky with clouds covering it from one side to the next, and there was something on her skin.

Reaching up to touch her face, Liv stopped to stare at her hand instead. She moved her fingers, wiggling them in an odd wave to herself, and watched as a dark hand wiggled its claw-tipped fingers back at her.

… _**The fuck?**_

Liv had never had a panic attack before... but she was willing to bet that she was having one right then. Her breath began to quicken, her pulse started working double-time, she got tunnel vision and could only seem to focus on the hand in front of her face as her body sat up from the cold damp ground. Her gaze followed the path of her, apparent, clawed hand and found her sweater – _the very same one she was wearing last night_ – riding high on her arm instead swallowing her hands and trailing along her finger tips. The bottom of the sweater wasn't where it was supposed to be either, instead of falling to her upper thighs it was barely grazing her hips.

Liv was wondering where her sanity had fled, what kind of tricks her mind was playing on her, when a groan reached her ears. It wasn't her own groan, either. She knew that voice anywhere – she had heard it all the night before and she knew exactly who it was.

**Emma.**

Rolling onto her knees, something she instantly regretted by the way the world spun as she did so, Liv found the prone form of her friend lying not too far away. Still pale, still had her long brown hair; Liv was beginning to wonder if she was just seeing things if she was the only one different. She forced herself to calm down – even if she didn't really succeed – and crawled closer to her friend, making a face every once in a while at dirt brushing against her semi-exposed calves. Her skinny jeans had rode up her legs – no longer covering them completely – and ended halfway down her calves with her tights and shoes ending her apparel.

It gave her the appearance of someone putting on clothes five-times too small for them to be wearing and Liv _hated_ it.

Reaching out a hand, and cringing at the look of the claws on said hand, Liv shook Emma's shoulder; murmuring for her to wake up and that it was morning. She _thought_ it was morning, anyway. There was no shining sun for her to base the time off of – even if she _pretended_ to be able to do so – but it was enough to make her friend groan and return to the land of the living.

When she rolled onto her back, however, at Liv's insistent shaking of her shoulder, the taller of the two – Liv herself – could only stare at her friend's face and wonder once more just _what the **blue fuck**_ had happened last night.

There were markings on Emma's face, curving along her cheekbones to flare out at the corners of her eyes, in dark ink – black, if she was to guess, or very dark purple, because of the slight light she had hitting it – and Liv's focus was stuck on the tattoo – she hoped it wasn't permanent but she wasn't ruling anything out at that point – and she barely looked up in time to see Emma open her eyes.

And suck in a breath as she jerked backwards into the ground with wide eyes. Wide _hazel_ eyes... Liv's subconsciously noted; weren't her eyes brown?

“I hope you didn't get drunk enough to get a tattoo,” Liv rambled, her brain-to-mouth filter short-circuiting as they stared each other down. “Because no one is going to understand why you got one on your face.” Liv would, she thought it looked pretty cool, but she could see the panic settling into her eyes.

“Liv?” Emma's voice was more disbelief than questioning. “ **What** tattoo?”

“Right here,” Liv lifted one hand to sweep underneath and around her own eye on one side. “And here,” She repeated the motion on the other side. “It looks like those Dalish tattoos from Dragon Age. You know the Mythal-based ones in Inquisition?” The panic wasn't disappearing and Emma still hadn't looked away from Liv, although she did reach up to run her fingertips along the markings as if she could feel them. For all Liv knew, she just may have been able to.

“Are they real?”

“Are what real?”

“The, uh,” Emma wet her lips as she moved one hand off her face to point up above Liv's head. “The _horns_...” There was a lengthy pause between the two of them as Liv felt her eyes slowly grow wide as she reached up to the top of her head and wrapped her fingers around the smooth object she had been touching earlier. Horns? **Real** horns?

**… oh shit.**

“Liv...” She turned her attention back over to Emma to see her poking the tips of her ears... her _pointed_ ears. “Um...”

“Uh...” Liv didn't want to, she was almost terrified to do so herself, but she lowered her hand from the horn – **her** horn – to trace the tip of her own ear... and found it pointed as well.

_**Fuck nuggets.** _

“Where are we?” Emma asked with her hands returning to her face and her eyes darting around the area they were in. Trees and wilderness surrounded them, Liv knew; so they really could have been anywhere. “Are we dreaming?”

“We wouldn't be talking to each other if we were dreaming,” Liv muttered as she leaned back so that Emma could sit up herself. “At least, I don't think so.” She wasn't so sure anymore. Everything was so confusing. “Our mind's could be showing us each other and...” Liv got lost in thought for a long moment, her pounding headache worsening. “Are you even real?”

“Seriously Liv?” Emma deadpanned expression spoke for itself.

“At this point, it's a very legitimate question,” Liv stumbled to her feet then, flailing her arms briefly as if making to catch herself before she straightened and winced against the pain in her temples. “At least we're not alone. I'd be truly freaking out at this point, if I was.” Emma blinked at her and grabbed the hand Liv extended towards her to help her on her own feet.

The difference in height between the two of them was notable before but _now_... Liv had to look directly down to keep eye contact with Emma, considering how close they were standing. It was weird.

“... Liv... are you wearing a wig?”

“What?” Liv started to reach for her hair. “No? Why?” And she grabbed more hair than she was used to and tugged... and felt it pull at her scalp like her hair normally would. “The fuck?” She continued to tug at her hair, or what felt like her hair, as she went further down her head; once she passed the back of her neck and there was still lots of hair left – in a braid, no less – she knew there was something seriously wrong. Her hair hadn't grown past her shoulders since she was in middle school.

“And its red.”

“ _No_ ,” Liv breathed the word. “I refuse.”

“How can you refuse a hair color?”

“Don't know; don't care; I refuse to be a redhead.” Liv had jerked her hand away from the braid as soon as Emma told her what color it was and she turned away from the smaller woman and out to their surroundings. “Is that a house?”

“It looks like it,” Emma had followed her pointed finger to the run-down looking cabin a distance away. “Why don't you want to be a redhead?” Emma was smirking as she asked, teasing Liv seemed to have taken her mind off of their predicament.

“Do you know the kind of **reputation** redheads have? Do you know the kind of shit they go through?”

“I take it you do?”

“Hells to the yes I do; I've written half of them in that particular way.” Liv was referring to the short stories she wrote from time to time – as well as the fiction she had been in the process of writing. “I'm not the only one that finds that shack familiar... right?”

It was made entirely out of wood, it seemed, with a single door and a small room sitting against the ground while the rest of it seemed to be raised. There were planks of woods spread out in an odd web-like pattern or with the planks sticking straight up out of the ground and going far higher than the building itself. There was another building beside it, made of stone, and looked more like an ancient medieval tower than anything else. Liv stared at it for several moments and felt Emma stop by her side to do the same.

“It... really does,” Emma muttered beside her, reaching up to tug at her necklace; one that Liv herself had given her for Christmas the first year they were friends. “Why am I getting a weird sense of déjà vu?”

“Hell's bells, you're not the only one,” Liv's eyes narrowed and her lips tipped downwards into a frown. “I've seen that place before.”

“This is so weird,” Liv looked over at Emma again, taking in the way her clothes seemed a little longer than they had been last night... or were they? Liv was sure that her eyes were playing tricks on her. Her skinny jeans looked looser than they had before – or maybe she was seeing things – and her long-sleeve seemed bigger than it had before... not overly so but Liv shook the thoughts off and met Emma's gaze again. “Your eyes are weird, too.”

“Ugh,” Liv groaned, feeling her head dip down before she straightened again. “What happened now?”

“You remember what the Qunari looked like in Dragon Age II... right?”

And... Liv felt her mind go blank.

“Holy fuck,” she could barely get the words strung together, but they were pushed out in a whisper. “Oh shit fuck damn crap... I think I know where we are.” Everything oddly clicked into place and Liv didn't want to believe what was the only thing that made even some amount of sense. “We're in _Thedas_.”

“We're what?” Emma reached out with one hand – the other still tangled in the necklace that Liv now knew was dangerous to have – and touched Liv's arm, thankfully grounding her. Liv wasn't sure what she would do if she actually began to freak out but she knew that it **would not** be pretty. “That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Liv pointed over at the cabin they resumed walking towards. “And that right there, that's Flemeth's hut.”

“Bullshit.”

“I'm sure Iron Bull would be torn between feeling offended or delighted at being partially used as a curse.” Liv weathered the slap to her arm fairly well... she found it marginally odd that she barely felt it. “We have to go over there and see if she's home.”

“Who? Morrigan?”

“At this point, I'd prefer Flemeth,” Liv flapped her hand around as if to wave off the subject even if she continued on talking. “Her being Mythal, or even her being possessed by a small amount of Mythal, is more what we need right now than Morrigan; I'm sorry to say.” Emma stared at her for a long moment, reminding Liv in a silent way that she hadn't gone as far in-depth in Dragon Age lore as she had... and Liv wanted to warn her ahead of time that spoilers for the whole game series were about to be revealed.

If she hadn't already revealed them over the course of their friendship to that exact point in time.

“So... what? We just walk over there, knock on the door, and ask to see Flemeth?”

“That's... basically the gist of the plan, yeah.”

They both stared at the hut, neither one all too willing to be the first to touch it and neither one willing to prove whether or not Liv was right or wrong... until the door opened on its own.

“If this is how the two of you solve problems,” Liv could have sworn to whatever deity a person believed in that _**Sigourney Weaver**_ was the one speaking and looking at them right then... and she would have been wrong. “By staring them down and willing them to sort themselves out on their own, then I fear the two of you have much more left to learn.”

“Flemeth?” It was Emma that asked, her voice more hesitant than questioning. The raised eyebrow and quirked lips seemed to answer them both, it seemed. “ _The_ Flemeth... the Witch of the Wilds?”

“The one and only, my dear,” Sigourney Weaver's somewhat older and somewhat crazier looking twin answered her verbally that time. Liv stared on in quiet confusion. Of all the people in the world to look like, Flemeth looked like the woman from the _Alien_ movies? There had to be something wrong with that somewhere... “And the two of you have kept me waiting for quite some time.”

“Eh?” Liv jolted back into the present and tuned back into the conversation with a start. “What do you mean you've been waiting on us?”

“No, no; I said the two of you have kept me waiting,” Flemeth – because what else were they going to call her – smiled thinly. “You two are late.” She waved her hand into the air between them when Liv opened her mouth again to question the statement. “I was expecting you both years prior but I suppose fate had different plans for us.”

_… The fuck?_

“Come inside,” Flemeth opened her door wider and inclined her head back. “I'll explain everything to the two of you there.”

“What about Morrigan?”

“I sent her out to get supper,” Liv wondered briefly just what she would be getting in the middle of nowhere to eat... and promptly discarded the thought. _She didn't want to know._ “We have much to discuss and much to do before she returns so I suggest you get your more idiotic questions out of the way.”

“Can I go first?” Liv even lifted her hand some as if she was in a classroom. Emma's amused eyes but exasperated expression answered Liv's question. “So, when you did the do with all these human guys – or, I _assume_ they were all human – did you ever consider that cheating on your husband? … Or were you even considered to be his wife after your technical death? I'm a little confused on how this all works.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Liv reminded herself that sometimes her quirk – the damning ability to bring up topics most others would never think of – was not the best one to have... though she did get her questions answered, nine times out of ten.

“Technically,” Flemeth's expression remained unchanging as she closed the door behind them and moved further into the hut. “I suppose the two of us simply needed time away from one another, if you will.”

“Ancient elves took breaks in their marriages,” Liv put a hand to her face and shook her head, wincing shortly afterwards at the way her horns scraped against the ceiling of the hut. “I'll be damned.”

“Play your cards right and you may very well be.” Flemeth laughed out loud at her own words and Liv wondered absently if she was delirious for some reason or another. Or even if she was simply losing her mind... very possible.

They made their way further into the hut – Emma and Liv, both – before Flemeth called them over to the fireplace and the seats she had arranged for them around the area. They were mismatched and as out of place as they were but they made do; Liv settled herself down onto the floor, Indian-style on a cushion in front of the fire, while Emma tucked one ankle under her opposite knee in the wooden chair beside her. Flemeth took the remaining chair and looked over both of them with her odd little smile still in place.

“You're no elf,” She was obviously referring to Liv's large form and Liv struggled to refrain from making a face. “But the Kossith are a very intimidating race of people and that may very well be what we need.”

“ _What we need?_ ” Emma shared a look with Liv and Liv felt a frown growing on her face. “What are you talking about? Why are we here?”

“It was many years ago,” Flemeth began, “Before I was known as Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, and even before the fall of Arlathan, that I had used a majority of my magic to call for aid for my people.” She flicked a hand and tendrils of magic leaked out and formed shapes and structures before their very eyes. If neither one had proof of where they were before, the sight of magic had certainly settled it. “I had called for people to help me defend my people and save them, all at once.”

“That was how you died,” Liv started with startling realization. “You had no magic left to defend yourself... Wait,” Liv leaned toward Flemeth then, one hand bracing herself against Emma's seat. “ _Who was the one that killed you?_ ”

Flemeth smiled, all secretive and sad, and said, “That's a story for another time.”

“Fair enough,” Liv reminded herself to ask next time – to remember that _particular_ question – before she settled back.

“My people,” Flemeth paused after the words. “My _fellow gods_ , as the Dalish clans enjoy calling them, had nearly enslaved the rest of the elvhen race – slaughtering and using them however and whenever they pleased. The two of you were meant to stop it all from happening. Between the three of us, something would have had to give and things would have been forced to change.”

“Why are we here now then?” Liv interjected once more, weathering the slap to her shoulder by Emma. “Instead of thousands of years prior?”

“I believe fate had other plans,” She shrugged in response. “Perhaps it was not yet time for the elvhen race to return to its glory... perhaps certain events had to play out as they had in order for things to change.”

“That's... not confusing at all,” The tallest of the three shook her head and leaned it against Emma's thigh then, putting one hand over her face as she struggled to process everything they were being told. “You're telling us, basically, that we were brought here to restore the elvhen race to its past beauty? Is that what you're saying?”

“If you want to put it in such simple terms, yes,” Flemeth fully grinned then. “That's exactly what I'm saying.”

“Did I hit my head last night?” Liv nudged her face against Emma's thigh as if to get her attention. “Did someone take a frying pan to my skull? Is that why I'm imagining all this?”

“If they did, they must have hit me too,” Emma pat her hand against the side of Liv's face – causing the older one to make a face with each pat – before just leaving her palm pressed against half of Liv's face. The size difference alone made it impossible for Emma's hand to cover all of Liv's face. “And I'm pretty sure you drank more than I did last night, at that.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Liv remained vague on that subject and glanced over at the tendrils of magic still before them.

It was **beautiful**... If Liv was to take a wild guess, she would have to say it was Arlathan in its prime. Tall winding spires that looked as if they were magically grown trees made out of crystal with intricate designs, runes maybe, etched into the sides. The colors were vibrant, everything was... different – but a good kind of different. The elves were beautiful and regal and... _ruthless_.

They could see the lower-class elvhen being led around either verbally or physically. There were even a few on leashes, being dragged from one place to another and it made Liv sick to her stomach. She could feel her insides twisting and her blood chilling at the sight. It was one thing to be told about it all... it was another thing entirely to see it all with her own eyes.

Through someone who had lived it, at that.

“What do either of you know of this world?” Flemeth asked as the images shifted and shattered, disappearing before their very eyes as if it had never been there to begin with. “I imagine your own world was different from our own.”

“You have no idea...” Emma groaned as she allowed her own head to drop against Liv's shoulder and smothered her face against the fabric of the sweater. Liv pat her knee in sympathy. “This is all so fucking weird.”

“Where we're from,” Liv started with a cringe. “This is all nothing but fantasy,” She lifted one hand to flap it around between them as if to dismiss it. “A series of stories that we pick and choose certain events in. From the heroes to their choices... but there were always some things that were set in stone and we couldn't do anything about.”

“Like Duncan,”

“Or the Fifth Blight,”

“Or the Conclave,”

“I see,” Flemeth interrupted them before they could continue on listing things that always went wrong. “And, in all those things that went wrong, was there ever an option for you to be able to change it? To prevent it from happening?” Neither Liv or Emma answered, watching the sly curve to Flemeth's lips as she regarded them both. “Nothing is set in stone, child,” She rose from her seat and walked the length of the hut to a chest the was partially hidden by another wall.

“Are you telling us to change everything we know?”

“I'm telling you to keep an open mind and to _always_ be aware of your options,” Flemeth had two bags in her hands as she walked back. “These were found yesterday by Morrigan; it let me know you were not far behind. The items within these satchels were... strange, to say the least. Nothing I have ever encountered before.”

“My purse!”

“My bag!”

Liv and Emma both dived for their own respective bags – Emma grabbed her purse and set it in her lap while Liv grabbed her backpack and dragged it in front of her – and opened the objects to check the contents inside. Liv wondered for a moment if they had been gone through and if anything had been taken before her eyes landed on what all she had tossed into her backpack before heading to the party last night.

Her emergency wilderness kit was still in there, she joked about it for several months before – keeping it in her bag whenever she was forced to drive somewhere – but now it seemed like it would come in handy, as was her First-Aid kit – her _very serious_ First-Air kit, that included several items that she probably shouldn't have been carrying around. Her cell phone, which doubled as her wallet, left her wondering briefly just why she had put it in there before reminding herself that she had been drinking last night with a few friends; as were her two cell phone chargers – the wireless one that she could have plugged in at any outlet and the solar-powered one that she kept with her wilderness kit...

After her car breaking down twice in the middle of nowhere, Liv took **no** chances.

And there were her two _World of Thedas_ books – volume one and two – that Liv stared at for a long moment before looking up at Flemeth. Flemeth stared right back at her, an almost perfected uncaring look on her face, but Liv's narrowed gaze took note of the slight frown she tried to refrain from showing. Had she looked at them? Did she not see the kind of bullshit that she was asking the two of them to fix? Liv turned away then, not wanting to know the answer – not entirely.

Directly behind her books was an assortment of scarves, Liv well-known pleasure alongside watches and belts, that Liv was extremely thankful for. They varied from thick wool to airy silk (which she was always extremely precarious about storing) and Liv's hand reached out to touch a plain cotton one that helped ground her. At least she still had this much of home...

Emma had made a noise as she was going through her own things, nothing seemed out of place so far since she hadn't said anything, and Liv made sure her little stash of snacks was still present and accounted for before zipping up her backpack again and setting it directly beside her. She would explore more when she didn't have Flemeth staring her down and frowning.

“Interesting books you have there,” _Well then_ , Liv thought, _that answered that question._ “Are they all fiction?”

“I'm beginning to doubt that actually,” Liv decided to keep her bag in her lap then, and firmly wrapped her arms around it as she did so. As big as she was, Liv had a rouge thought of her making a very odd sight: a large Kossith female clinging to a small rucksack – as it was closely related – while sitting on the ground and giving a much older and much smaller human woman a suspicious look.

Emma hummed in apparent satisfaction and dropped her purse into her lap, lifting her head and shifting her attention to glance between Liv and Flemeth with confusion and curiosity... until she said, “You brought those damn books, didn't you?”

“I was going to convert more followers into the world of greatness... obviously, that's not something I have to think of anymore,” Liv refused to think of how her words might have been taken and instead shifted closer to Emma and leaned against her as she asked Flemeth, “Well... we have our stuff... we have the general facts down... um, what now?”

“That's a good question,” Flemeth nodded, “But it is not one I can answer.”

“Why not?” Emma asked.

“That, I'm afraid,” Flemeth stood from her seat and walked around the hut again. “Is up to the two of you... for now.”

“I don't like the sound of that,” Liv stage-whispered to Emma as she shifted further away from Flemeth dramatically.

“It will take me some time to work out a manner in which to restore my people to their rightful place. And I will need time to locate aid and, from what I have heard and from what the two of you have mentioned,” Flemeth gave Liv a pointed look as she said so. “I will also need to allow the two of you time to keep the world in one piece until I can do all that I must.”

“Equality is beautiful, isn't it?” Liv deadpanned, knowing that her very presence in the future new-world order would be... very uneasy. In a world ruled by elves of the ancient kind and of the newer breed, a Kossith woman walking amongst them would not be something wholly natural.

Liv wasn't all that enthusiastic about it either. What if history repeated itself? The dwarves had suffered once before, she was uneasy about allowing it to happen again if they elves decided that their ways were the only ways... and then there were the Qunari to think about...

Liv decided to stop thinking about it before she upset herself.

“I believe stopping the Blight should be your first concern,” Flemeth informed them then. “I would suggest meeting with the Grey Wardens and aiding them in stopping this disaster before things get further out of hand than they should.”

“The Fifth Blight,” Liv nudged Emma. “With the Hero of Fereldan and the great Cheese King.” Liv paused as she thought about who else they would see and looked over at Flemeth then. “And Morrigan.”

“Of course,” Flemeth nodded as she gestured them over to where she was standing in front of a chest. “But I cannot let her see the two of you just yet. She is not ready to know the truth about who I am and what her part in this story will be.”

“Yeah, understandable... but you _**cheated**_ ,” Liv sniffed as her and Emma both wondered over to where she was, Liv having to curl in her shoulders and duck her head down some to prevent her horns from scarping against the ceiling of the hut again. “Looking ahead can be dangerous and _stupid_ , you know; things can change.”

“Oh, I'm counting on it,” She gestured to the open chest then. “There is clothing and armor in here that I suggest you change into. Your... apparel may have been appropriate in your own world but here I doubt it will do you much good.” Liv and Emma both silently agreed, they had certainly played the games enough to know that much, and they set out digging through the contents of the chest while Flemeth made herself scarce. There were several sets of armor, nothing than resembled any of the heavy armor they had seen in game, but Liv was making a face at all of it as they lifted them to inspect them closer.

They looked a little... _small_.

“Here,” Emma lifted another tunic – because _of course_ they wouldn't have plain shirts in Thedas – for the both of the to look over, “Maybe this will fit.”

Liv shifted her footing, hesitant on changing in the hut, before sighing. Not like she had much of a choice in the matter... and she certainly had stranger people see her in less.


	2. Meeting Spirits; The Non-Alcoholic Type

Changing clothes took a lot more time than either one would ever really admit. Flemeth had to step in at the beginning, claiming they were taking too long, when they had finally found plain clothes they had thought would fit, and had them switch out several items of clothing under her watchful eyes. She even made the two of them change into breast bands – it was an experience Liv was sure she would never forget.

She had even made a point of telling Emma that she was going to be referring to it all as an Alice in Wonderland experience – down the rabbit hole they went, indeed.

Liv's plain apparel ended up being too short, just as she had thought, but she would manage to cover it up well enough with the armor Flemeth picked out for her – on request. Liv didn't know what would fit, what was heavy, _what was what_ , and she left all that up to the famed Witch of the Wilds. She was invested in Liv's health, anyway, so she could trust her with such things. Emma had found better fitting clothes than Liv did, thankfully; the tunic was a bit on the long side but she managed to find everything else that she needed in her size.

Flemeth had... a very _extensive_ wardrobe.

“Quick question,” Liv finally spoke up while she was adjusting the way the gloves fit over her clawed hands; she wondered briefly if she should poke holes in the tips so that her nails could poke out and not push against the leather. “Why do you have so many different sets of clothes? You and Morrigan can't possibly wear all of these,” Liv had gestured at the chest as she finished her question and made a face whenever she felt one of her claws catch on a rogue string within the glove.

Flemeth didn't answer. “You must know about what to expect in this new life.” In fact, she completely changed the subject. Liv wasn't all that upset about it either; though she knew the question would nag at her for a while. “Based on how the two of you reacted, I can safely assume that magic is not common in your world?”

“Doesn't exist,” Emma spoke up, “At least, not in the way it does here if it does. No one shoots lightning from their fingertips and no one can change into a bear if they wanted. No Fade or Black City.” Liv nodded along, agreeing silently.

Flemeth started smiling again and it didn't sit well with Liv at all. “Then this will be an exciting experience for everyone. Oh what fun.” And then she laughed that old woman – near crazed and delirious – laugh that she had in the game. “One of you is a mage.”

“What?” Somehow they managed to speak at the same time. Then she pointed at Liv with her smile growing into a full-blown grin. “Me?” Liv pointed at herself too. “Oh no. No _no no no **no**_. I refuse. I reject that idea; I don't like it. I don't want to.” Emma put a hand on her arm – since she couldn't reach her shoulder when they were standing side-by-side – and made Liv fall silent.

Any other bad news she needed to hear?!

“First your hair, then your class,” Liv heard the smile in Emma's voice and turned to give her a dirty look – the smile was there. “You just can't win, can you?”

“I don't even want to talk about it anymore,” Liv put her head in her hand and groaned, not liking the way the conversation was already going.

“I can teach you both the basics you will need to survive,” Flemeth began, “At least long enough for the both of you to make it to Ostagar and to meet up with the Grey Wardens there.”

Liv quirked an eyebrow. “ _Long enough?_ What exactly should we be expecting to...” Liv trailed off on her own and waved a hand about. “Never mind. I think I just answered myself.” Darkspawn, wolves, bears with the Taint, _ugh_. She stopped there before she upset herself further. “Don't mages undergo years worth of training in order to use their magic?”

“We don't exactly _have_ years of time,” Emma piped in, agreeing.

“Then the two of you need to stop questioning me and start learning,” Flemeth pointed to her door. “Go outside. I will find some weapons that the two of you can take that won't fall to pieces the moment you use them.”

“Kinky,” Liv dodged the slap to her arm that time and quickly moved to the door. “Don't give me a staff!” Liv stopped inside the doorway and looked back at Flemeth. “I wouldn't be able to use the damn thing... and I doubt I'd be able to use magic all that well by the time we have to leave for it to be of any use to me on the road.” Emma was shoving against Liv's back so they both went outside – back into the dry cold.

“Can I get daggers?”

“And a bow!” Liv added in for Emma – hoping one of them having something long range would help.

Flemeth seemed to ignore them both. “Out. Both of you.”

And so they were alone all over again.

Liv looked over the armor set Flemeth had picked out for Emma. It was Dalish leather armor, she had explained; cured hide – _Tier 2_ – that was a rich brown color. Her stomach wasn't bare, as it would have been in game, with her tank top covering it and being tucked into her armored skirt and fleece leggings – both the tank top and leggings being from home and solid black.

Liv didn't fault her for keeping them on; it was as cold as balls in Fereldan.

The boots weren't part of the set, Liv noted, they were more studded – Studded Leather Boots, her inner gamer screamed – and Liv certainly hoped they were comfortable. They had a long way to go... Emma's gloves were, according to Flemeth, reinforced Imperial gloves that she had sitting around for a special occasion. She admitted that they weren't the best gloves for such a journey, but for the _beginning_ of one? They would do fine. Her outfit was complete, mismatched but complete.

Liv was still not all too sure what to think about her own.

She had been given red scale armor – she was pretty excited about that fact, it was her favorite in-game beginning armor, and it was _Tier 2_ at that – and it fit a lot better than she had thought it originally would, considering her larger than normal frame. The vambraces and greaves were a little shorter than they probably should have been, they didn't cover as much it seemed, but she made do with the gloves and boots covering what the armor did not.

The boots were the same make as the scale armor, grey iron, which made it _Tier 2_ as well, and were splintmail and in fairly good shape – considering they had been locked away in a chest for who knows how long in the middle of the Korcari Wilds. They didn't fully match – the armor was red but the boots were more grey – but they made do with what they could. The only full set of clothing/armor Flemeth had stored away was for a mage and Liv refused to have anything to do with it.

The gloves were of a slightly higher make – _Tier 3_ , her inner nerd whispered, steel – and Liv was slightly thankful for them. They were a little tight at her fingertips, considering her talon-like nails, but they were warm and they fit like, well, a glove. Liv did love her puns.

Emma and Liv both had picked out a set of clothes to be worn later – an extra set, Flemeth had called for, just in case – and Liv was ecstatic to know that even the clothing was made out of _Tier 1_ cloth: Emma had lambswool and Liv had cotton.

Inquisition facts during Origins? Liv wasn't sure if she was excited about it or worried – was there more she had to learn in order to get through all of this or did she already know too much?

“Hey Liv,”

“Hm?”

“Who do you think the Warden Recruit is going to be?”

“Oh Hell, of all the questions you could have asked,” Liv was grinning as she replied, looking to the sky as if it would give her an answer. It wouldn't, but she could hope. “I have this silent hope for a male Surana – the elf mage in the Circle? But I'm willing to bet that it will end up being a Cousland.”

“A human? **Ugh** ,” Emma's answer was to be expected really, Liv knew all too well of her dislike of the human paths for the simple reason that she was too much of an elf fan. Other reasons too but it was the main one. “Maybe we'll get Tabris!”

“I love that Origin!” Liv had certainly played it enough times. “Or even a Brosca; maybe a male one. Less chance of Alistair having a baby at the end of the Blight.” Emma made a face at the words and it had Liv cackling with laughter. She never liked it either – in fact, she had only **ever** done it twice in all her different games – but at least she could pick on her smaller friend over the issue. Emma's love for the great cheese king – or the possible future cheese king – of Fereldan had surpassed her own.

She didn't regret letting her take over the Alistair fan club, either.

“The two of you know about that as well, I see.”

“ ** _Shit stick!_** ” Liv jerked around to look at Flemeth, who wore a look closely resembling a stuffed cat's, and glared at her. “You _trying_ to kill us before we even get started?” Emma was laughing at Liv's startled reaction. For someone who wasn't startled easily, when she was... Liv's reactions were priceless.

Flemeth held out a large bundle. “Take this before I drop it. These old bones aren't what they used to be.” Liv rolled her eyes but stepped closer to take the bundle from her, blades and handles poking out from underneath the cloth wrapped loosely around it all, and nearly tipped over once the full weight of it all had been transferred over. How the _blue fuck_ did she even manage to carry it this far? Old bones her ass! “I found daggers and a shortbow, as requested,” She nodded over to Emma when she said as much and Liv shared a grin with her as Emma peaked around for said weapons. “As for you,” Please don't be a staff, Liv found herself hoping. “There was a battleaxe I apparently had kept from before Morrigan was born.”

“What?” Liv quirked a brow as she asked, “Do I get Morrigan's dad's old axe?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Flemeth didn't even seem all that concerned about it so Liv didn't bother expanding on that subject – no matter how much she may have wanted to. Morrigan's dad swung an axe... who knew. Liv had always thought it was a magic-wielding Thane, someone of strength and importance... apparently not. “The blade is still sharp and the wrappings on the handle are worn but it should suit you well.”

“ _Sweet_ ,” Liv's voice had taken on a sing-song quality when she breathed the word. As soon as Emma took her daggers and Flemeth took the shortbow, Liv moved the cloth off of the last weapon she was holding... and found herself staring at a massive battleaxe. Of the _two-handed_ variety... no wonder she had trouble lifting it. Swinging it would involve more gravity than actual strength on her part. “ _Mama mia_... that's a big axe.” And, when she looked closer at the wooden handle near the blade, she noticed it was elven.

_**Morrigan's dad was Dalish?** _

“Uh...”

“There is much to show the both of you so let's get started,” Flemeth cut off Liv before she could even get anything said and the much taller woman could only look over at the witch and wait on her to continue. She obviously didn't want to talk about it, but it did have Liv rethinking her ideas on how Flemeth elongated her life over the centuries. “We'll start with you,” She turned to Emma when she said that. “Since you have far more to learn.”

“Just don't teach her anything to do with stealth... I'd never be able to find her then.”

“As for you,” Flemeth turned a critical eye to Liv next and Liv straightened up the moment she turned her gaze on her. “You are going to be meditating, getting in touch with your magic and the Fade.” Liv made a face at the very thought of it all. “I may not be able to teach you anything of it, but you will at least be more aware of it than you are now and will be able to know when you are in the Fade and in the real world.”

“Yeah, I'm already doubting that,” Liv shifted her footing and turned away; still not entirely sure about that idea but she would humor the old witch. “But I'll give it a shot.”

“Spirits have been gathering around you for a long while now. They have been waiting for you in the Fade since before you set foot in my hut.” Liv wasn't sure how to feel about that. But how many people could honestly say – _beside Morrigan_ – that the Witch of the Wilds, the legendary Flemeth, taught them the beginnings of magic?

Solas maybe, now that she thought about it.

Flemeth gestured off to the side of her hut. “Sit there, by that tree, and relax; allow yourself to be pulled into the Fade.” Liv didn't like the sound of that. “The spirits there will be able to help you more than I can at this point. I will pull you out when its time to show you the beginnings of wielding a battleaxe.” Liv almost asked to be shown that first.

She should save dessert for last, though.

Liv allowed her feet to carry her over to the tree in question, sitting down Indian style again, and leaned her back against the small trunk. Meditate she said... like it was something everyone did. Well, it was past due for her to attempt it, she supposed. Liv's eyes slipped closed, her hands rested on her knees, and her head leaned back. She could hear Flemeth talking to Emma: how to hold the daggers, how to hold herself, how close an enemy could get before being too close, how to use that to her advantage.

She was saying something about body language when Liv felt... a _tug_? Something was... _pulling_? Her head felt light and her stomach felt like lead, like it was the only thing grounding her. Was this what Flemeth meant? Was this the pull into the Fade that she was talking about?

“So you're the one.” Was that _Morgan Freeman_? Liv had to open her eyes – she had to check – and when she did... she stared. It had to be Morgan Freeman... but the backdrop was not something she recognized. She could see a green tint to what she would have otherwise called a mountain trail. Not that she would know, really, she had never really considered herself an outdoors-y person. “You are the one with the odd magic.”

“You're Morgan Freeman,” Liv just stared at him. She was talking to **mother fucking** Morgan Freeman.

“No,” He smiled some. “I am Wisdom. This just happens to be the form in which I have come to you in. I have seen into your memories and your thoughts and have discovered that this image would make you more comfortable with our meeting.”

“Wisdom?” Liv nodded her head towards him. “As Morgan Freeman,” She looked around, what she could only assume was the Fade, and bobbed her head along with the information. “I can work with that, I guess.” Her panic was rising but she forced it down, took a few deep breaths, and refocused on Morgan – um... Wisdom.

This was going to take some adjusting.

“I am not the only spirit here to speak with you,” Wisdom spoke again, holding out one arm in a gesture for her to come closer. Liv didn't notice until she did that she wasn't as tall as she was when she had been with Flemeth and Emma. Her skin wasn't onyx anymore and her fingers didn't end in claws. “Purpose, Hope, and Courage are here as well,” She was back to looking like a regular human! She was no longer a redhead and she fit under his arm comfortably instead of towering over him as if she was the Tower of Ishal! Then she registered what he just said.

“Purpose, Hope, and Courage?” Then her dark eyes – no longer violet – followed his gesture out to the front of them and found Anthony Hopkins, David Lyons, and Idris Elba all looking at her in Dragon Age gear. Liv was certain she wasn't breathing anymore. “ _Oh sweet holy mother of **marshmallows**..._ ”

“I am Purpose,” Anthony Hopkins was Purpose... Liv was certain there was something seriously wrong with her if she likened _Hannibal Lector_ to Purpose in any way. If she likened _Odin_ – one of her least favorite Nordic gods – to the role of Purpose! “And this form,” He gestured to himself with a sardonic grin. “Seemed to be the best suited to get through to you.”

“No comfort from Anthony Hopkins?”

“Only if you say please,” He must have picked that line out of her head – she could have sworn it was from an Anthony Hopkins movie, at that – and she chose to ignore it.

“I am Hope,” David Lyons must have decided it was his turn as he stepped forward and held out a hand for her to place her own in – which, of course, she did. “And I can see you have great promise as a young mage.”

“So you hope, anyway,” Liv made the pun before it fully registered in her mind what she said. Liv's wide-eyed look only made David – Hope – chuckle.

“Indeed I do, and I know you will not let me down.” He squeezed her hand in his grip and she noticed that his hands radiated warmth. It felt like it seeped into her very bones and she felt herself grow warm from her toes to the top of her head. So _warm_... so _comfortable_...

Liv hummed to herself, keeping her eyes on their hands as the warmth spread, and just barely caught the next words spoken. “And I am Courage.” Idris Elba was Courage... fitting. Very strangely fitting. “You will need to have much bravery in the days to come.”

“That's not foreboding at all,” Liv looked up when she said as much... and found herself following the strings of faintly glowing green light to a towering structure in the distance. “The Black City...”

“As it is,” Courage nodded his head in agreement, drawing her attention back to him. “One day, you may be able to walk its halls and discover its secrets for yourself.” Walk the Black City? What sort of horror movie bullshit was he thinking?! Uh-uh, _no way, **not happening**_.

“Maybe,” was all she said out loud; she doubted voicing her thoughts would get her anywhere with the four spirits she now had around her. Spirits... that took the appearance of several well-known actors just to keep her calm and willing to listen to them.

Sounded like some demonic shit when she put it like that, but she was hoping she was wrong.

Liv doubted she could handle the possibility of any of them being demons... especially Morgan Freeman – she means Wisdom.

Yeah... Wisdom.

“We have come here together to help you learn how to control your magic,” Wisdom began speaking again and Liv could only stare around at all of them after the words finally sunk in.

“Wait,” she looked at them, “What? You – _all of you_ – are going to teach me magic? Doesn't that break some kind of mage/spirit boundary law?”

It was Purpose who seemed the most amused by the question. “If such rules exist, they only pertain to those that live within your own plane. In the Fade, such restrictions are not applied.” Liv bobbed her head; made sense. “And for your first lesson, I need you to stand right there.” He gestured off to the side of him in a wide arc and Liv jerked her shoulders back when a glowing circle appeared on the ground. Did he just make a video game marker?

Hope's fingers, the ones that weren't being clutched in her own, pushed her dark hair out of her face and away from her eyes. “It is not dangerous; we will be here for you each and every step of the way. We will show you what you must learn.”

“Alright...” Liv muttered, stepping out from underneath Wisdom's arm and hesitantly letting go of Hope's hand as she did so. Courage smiled at her encouragingly – because _how else would he?_ – as she stepped past him and directly into the circle Purpose made.

“Remember what you are here for; temptation comes in many forms.”

“Holy fuck, you're not putting me through some fucked up Harrowing, are you?” Liv had legitimate reason to be concerned about that possibility. She had played a Magi Origin enough times to know that the act was more stressful than it had any reason to be – and that it was more unnecessary than it needed to be. Throwing fresh meat into a tank full of sharks... it made no sense.

Wisdom scoffed while Hope shook his head at her. “As if our trials and teachings could ever be compared to the lunacy that is called the Harrowing.” Wisdom said, as if he had read her thoughts. It was possible, yes, but Liv let herself believe that was just his usual view. It certainly made her feel better.

“This circle will fabricate enemies for you to defend yourself from – either with offensive magic or defensive magic will be up to you,” Courage mimed taking a deep breath and Liv quickly followed his request and did so herself. “Often times, when a mage discovers their magic for the first time, they are under stress and in mortal danger; we will simulate such circumstances to draw out your first use of magic.”

Liv quirked a brow in confusion. “So this is all going to be a training exercise so that I will bring out magic on my own before you help me use it? Basically?” Purpose was the one that bobbed his head in the affirmative.

Well then...

“We'll send in smaller, more common, creatures to begin with to test how much you can handle under stress.” Wisdom began as the circle of light at her feet began to glow. “We will gradually send in more and more difficult creatures the longer this goes on until either your magic comes out or Mythal decides to end our teachings.”

“Wait,” Liv started quickly as the glowing circle seemed to get brighter. “You call her Mythal?”

“Good luck, Olivia,” Hope said before the four of them seemed to vanish from her eyes. The circle wasn't glowing anymore. Liv felt nervous; she knew what was going on, she knew what to expect, but she was still uneasy about it all. What the Hell was she thinking? Why did she even agree to this?

_Growling._

She heard fucking _growling_.

Liv had always considered herself a cat person; she liked dogs just fine... but she would prefer to have a pet that she didn't always have a small fear of killing her. Or having the possibility of killing her. Death by cat – house cat, anyway – was damn near unheard of.

 _Dogs_ , however...

Liv turned to her side, where the growling was coming from, and didn't find a dog.

She found a wolf.

In the back of her mind, she could register it as a beautiful creature – thick fur, long straight tail, rich coloring – but in the forefront of her mind, she could only register the snarling. Liv could not get over the sound. She couldn't function, for lack of any other words. She could see the teeth – they weren't white, she registered a moment later, they were dripping red – and she could see the sharpened nails on its paws as it clawed at the ground.

Then it charged.

She screamed, it was reflex – _she could not function with large dogs!_ – and went to scramble backwards... only to jerk. Her feet were stuck. Her thoughts weren't stringing together anything coherent and her knowledge of the situation fled. She wanted away, and she wanted away **now**. The wolf was there in front of her, barely a yard away, when it sunk low to the ground and lunged.

Liv screamed again and ducked down, throwing her arms over her head and tucking her chin against her chest – the stray thought of having her throat ripped out was ever present around dogs. And other canines. Any animal that had the possibility, however small, of viciously attacking and/or killing her.

She felt the faintest brush of fur, she could feel the presence right in front of her, she felt its hot breath, and she heard the snarl it let out as if it was right there.

But then it wasn't.

Liv was shaking, her nerves and adrenaline were too high for her to calm them down, and she could feel the tears gathering in her eyes and the way blood had seemed to drain from her face and leave it chilled like how the rest of her felt. She felt numb for the briefest of moments before a voice filtered through to her thoughts and shook her back to the present.

“Breathe now,” It was Hope that was comforting her; his arm encircling her shoulders and drawing her close to his comforting warmth. She shook against him, her fear still very close and very real, and Hope only murmured reassuring words against her hair as he slowly rocked them both. “Just breathe; we'll get through this together.”

Doing as he asked, as he _begged_ , Liv breathed. That's all she did. She leaned against him and breathed in the air around the Fade and hoped for her nerves to calm down enough for her to stop shaking and for her tears to go away. She hated fear, she hated tears, she hated helplessness.

_But that's all she felt right then._

“What you need is not something easily obtained,” it was Courage that placed his hand on her shoulder and drew her attention next. She looked up at him, still crouched on the ground and leaning against Hope. “What you need is bravery.” Courage was telling her that she needed courage; it sounded about right.

She knew she needed it but she just... wasn't all that crazy about canines.

At all, obviously.

“I know,” Liv was only a little surprised by how shaky her voice came out. Fear was terrible a feeling. “But... how?”

“Look around you,” Purpose spoke up. “This world can't be familiar nor comforting. This world is not your own. And you are stranded here, on your own. Left to your own devices.” Purpose sent a look towards Wisdom and Hope when they shifted in place. It was as if they had a silent conversation in the briefest of moments. “How do you plan on leaving here if you cannot face your fears?”

“Logically, I wouldn't,” Liv shrugged one shoulder as she replied, not outwardly as bothered by the development as she should have been. On the inside, however, Liv felt panic swarm the inside of her chest. She didn't like the thought of being stranded in the Fade. She always considered herself one that was comfortable with change – she figured she was a very adjustable person – but the thought of spending the rest of her days in the Fade with nothing but spirits and demons and wisps as company...

It wasn't the most pleasant of feelings.

“Logically speaking,” Liv continued, standing with Hope's assistance but letting his touch fall away from her once she was vertical. “I would be stuck in the Fade indefinitely because I wouldn't be able to handle magic 24/7...”

“Knowing that,” Purpose narrowed his gaze at her and shifted his footing. “What do you intend to do? Will you let yourself cower? Will you let the shadows and evils of this world keep you contained? Will you kneel before your fear?”

“Fear can go suck a dick,” Liv felt the words tumble out of her mouth before she could contain them. “Show me what to do. Tell me what it's like.” Liv shook her head before looking down at her hands, wondering what it would be like to hold lightning in her palm like she had seen mages do in the games. “ **Teach me.** ”

“She shows Wisdom.” Wisdom spoke up.

“She shows Purpose.” Purpose turned an amused grin to the other spirits.

“She shows Courage.” Courage reached out to clasp a hand onto her shoulder.

“Most of all,” Hope said, leaning his forehead against her temple with one hand holding her skull in place. “She shows Hope.”

“Just what every girl needs to hear.” Liv took a long moment to take in her hands. No claws, no onyx coloring; nothing unnatural about it at all. Would it happen every time she entered the Fade? Or did the spirits alter her appearance for her to keep her calm?

“Magic is more about feeling than it is about technique,” Wisdom spoke. “Technique is important, yes, but if you do not feel the magic you are calling... what point is there in using it?” Tranquil came to mind in an instant, making Liv wonder just how much spirits knew of the outside world; or the world that was not the Fade. Or was it instinctual? Did they just know that there was something humans could do to rid themselves or others of magic?

Did they approve of such an action?

“What are you feeling right now?”

“Confused,” She answered Wisdom honestly – she was seldom not confused, to be honest. “Scared... Worried...”

“Explain them,” It was Courage that spoke next, tuning her to face the landscape of the Fade. It was just as green and barren as it was before.

“Explain my emotions?”

“Yes.”

“I'm confused... because I don't have the slightest idea of what I'm doing.” It was a good start, even if Liv hated talking out loud. Public speaking was _not_ a trait that Liv possessed – unless she felt that she was the only one that could. Unless she had... courage, and purpose... “I'm scared of the unknown.” Knowing something was lingering in front of her that she knew nothing about was always frightening. The feeling only ever went away when she learned more about it. When she gained... wisdom. “And I'm worried about Emma; about the plan Flemeth has for us; about whether or not we'll ever go home; about whether or not we'll ever want to.” She was a worry-wart – the _mom friend_ , usually – and she constantly worried about one thing or another... hope always took the edge off.

Courage, Purpose, Wisdom, Hope... she had them all along?

“And what will you do now?”

“I'll... march on,” She knew that she had to. She knew that she would need to. She knew that she must. “And,” She side-eyed one particular spirit before finishing. “ _Hope_ for the best.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Wisdom chuckled some at her response while Hope smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, once more drawing her close to his side and warmth. “Yet... true all the same. Your world had such interesting phrases.”

“Wait,” Liv looked at them in confusion. “Do you see all my memories? Or are you just looking for key foot notes, as the case may be? Or, if you are seeing them, what makes you think that I –”

“We're running short on our time together,” Purpose cut her off before she could continue peppering Wisdom with questions. “Your grand witch is nearing the end of her session with the other girl.”

“Emma?” Her axe training would soon begin... joy of joys... “Wait! Then how do I use magic?”

Wisdom chuckled again. “ _ **You feel it.**_ ”


	3. A Rose By Any Other Name... Is Still A Fucking Flower

~~~

“Wake up.” Liv jerked at the stinging in her cheek and found herself not surrounded by helpful spirits and an eerie green scenery. Instead, what she had was an old hag and an older forest - at least she thought the forest was older. Liv wasn't sure if she should be thankful to be out of the Fade or thankful she didn't have to watch the apparently vicious training Flemeth had just subjected Emma to.

Liv wasn't sure Emma was moving from her place on the ground; and lying face first in the dirt couldn't have been comfortable – it certainly wasn't hygienic.

Oh shit, was she _breathing_?!

“She will be fine,” _Will be?!_ “I hope the spirits were able to help you.”

“They had their own weird way of teaching, I guess,” Liv shrugged as she said so. It was true in a way, so she wasn't exactly lying. She never did like lying... unless someone was trying to get frisky with her when she wasn't interested... then she'd lie like a two-bit corner hoe dealing crack getting questioned by crooked cops.

And she meant that.

“Excellent,” Liv didn't like that smile on Flemeth's face. Not one bit. “Then my lesson should be simple.”

“Somehow,” Liv found herself mumbling. “I seriously doubt you're going to make this easy.”

Flemeth chuckled, apparently having heard. “Oh, how right you are.”

Liv went through **Hell**. She was certain that was what it was. The battleaxe felt like a ton of lead by the end of it all... while Liv's arm felt like wet noodles trying to hold it up. Throughout the training she discovered several valuable tidbits of information concerning the battleaxe. It was called Dal'Thanaan, it was only grey iron which put it at _Tier 2_ , and was actually only meant for _Dalish_ hands... Liv continuously had to adjust her grip on the handle to keep a hold of it; long as the handle was, her hands were a bit bigger than what it was made for.

She adjusted... _somehow_. She knew there were heavier battleaxes out there with higher tiers and more durable metal. And she was going to be in trouble if she couldn't even use a _Tier 2_ battleaxe when they got to them.

She was going to have to bulk up and bulk up _fast_... just not to the point where she'd be mistaken for, say, **the Iron Bull**.

Flemeth taught her the proper grip – for when she did have a weapon built for someone of her size – and stance when using a weapon built more for heavy hitting than for melee. She taught her a few basic ways in which to strike at an enemy and showed her just what to expect when she left herself open; Flemeth used magic instead of brute force whenever she had to show her that.

Liv preferred her magic training at times... then she thought of the wolf and shuddered. It was a dirty trick but even she would admit that it did help.

“Don't you look scary,” Emma's voice broke through to Liv's thoughts after Flemeth had used some kind of force magic to knock her on her ass again. Liv wasn't entirely sure how scary a Vashoth was while lying on the ground in front of an old woman... “How's axe training?”

“Heavy,” Liv panted out. “ _Very_ heavy.” She let the battleaxe rest partially on the ground, the handle still in one hand, as she wiped sweat off of her face with her now-free hand. Her hand was covered in dirt and it mixed with the sweat, only serving to smear it across her face; she reflexively licked her lips and cringed at the taste that met her tongue. “How'd your training go? Daggers and a shortbow, right?”

“I think... the daggers are going to take a little while longer to learn.”

“Yeah... I feel the same about the axe. I sure as shit don't have enough upper body strength for this.”

They both made a face, neither one aware that the other was doing the same thing, before they turned towards Flemeth when she cleared her throat for their attention. “As exciting as all of this was,” She sent both of them a dry look. “It is time for the both of you to head towards Ostagar before the sun sets too low. You may miss your opportunity to meet up with your Grey Wardens and join the ranks.” _Shit_ , was Liv's first thought; swiftly followed by, _fuck she's right._ She didn't know when Duncan and the Warden Recruit were supposed to arrive at Ostagar... but if it was early morning, then they had already missed them. Several hours had already passed by, at the very least.

Better late than never, she supposed. “Alright-y then,” Liv shifted her stance once she had stood to her full height and straightened her spine, towering over both Emma and Flemeth easily. “Kicking us out just as the party gets started, I see how it is.” Liv snicked once she took note of the exasperated expression that flickered across Flemeth's face. Emma just rolled her eyes at the words and nudged Liv as she stepped to her side.

“I managed to locate a pair of packs for the two of you to use,” Flemeth gave Liv a flat stare when she opened her mouth to speak. “I would advise you to take one since your own tends to draw more attention than necessary.” Liv knew she was right, but that didn't necessarily mean that she had to like it. Her backpack looked like it was styled after Captain America in its navy blue and brown fake leather pouches... it certainly stood out in its own unique way; especially with the way it was filled and had a shield sewed into the middle of it – Captain America's shield, that is.

Liv embraced the nerd life long ago... and had yet to regret a moment of it.

She did, however, agree that she did have to blend in to avoid being asked questions she wouldn't be able to answer...

_Double shit._

“Emma!” Liv stage-whispered. “What are we going to tell people?”

Emma quirked a brow, sitting on the ground and transferring everything she needed from her purse into her new pack; Liv quickly sat down too and opened her backpack to do the same. Flemeth had wandered back into her hut for something or another. “What do you mean?” The first two things Liv put in her new pack were her World of Thedas books. Like Hell she was going to leave them behind with Flemeth and Morrigan. The very next things were her kits; both the wilderness one and the First-Aid one.

“I mean,” Liv began again, “What are we going to say when Duncan asks us where we're from? What we did before getting to Ostagar? Or how we even got to Ostagar? I seriously doubt the truth is going to work...”

“Well, obviously the truth isn't going to work,” Emma answered. “Did you... have anything in mind? Did you have any kind of story made up? A backup plan or something?”

Liv paused in her packing – after deciding to leave behind her now-turned-off cell phone and all her chargers – and looked heavenward, wondering where the conversation had turned to. “Now if you want a new identity, I can give you a new identity. Shouldn't be too hard, all things considered. I mean,” There went her bad habit of saying those two damn words again at the start of a sentence. “I have the books to help, if nothing else. And we can even get customized names and pasts and no one would be the wiser... save for Flemeth, because she's a killjoy.” Emma rolled her eyes at the words, knowing all the words just meant that Liv was thinking things through and getting right back into the swing of things.

It meant that Liv was already getting ideas.

She hummed lowly, after a moment of silence between them. The spare set of clothes went into the new bag, as well as the cheat sheets she used for fan-fictions – not a lot, just three loose leaf sheets of paper that she had jotted down information on when she had been writing out the outline of her latest story. It was near worthless to her now, if she was going to be living the adventure and meeting the people... “You're going to need a elven-sounding name.”

“Naturally,” Emma looked up to see Liv looking around at the trees with a far-off look on her face. “You got any ideas?”

“A few...” Liv jerked back to attention, as if someone dumped cold water over her, and pulled out one of her cheat sheets. It had a few more elven words scribbled down on it than in her World of Thedas books but not the complete extensive vocabulary she knew she was going to need later on. It... was a small help; though she knew she'd have to be careful using it. “What about Assan? It means _arrow_ ,” Emma made a face after a moment, silently answering Liv's question. “Yeah... I always used it for a minor character...” She hummed again as her eyes scanned the paper again.

An all-elven name that actually meant something to them but would possibly leave someone else mildly confused about the meanings... It was the same way she decided all her names so... “Enasalin? Means _victory_ ,” She didn't look up from the paper as she continued on. “Melana means _time_... Nehn means _joy_... Era means _story_ or _dream_... Samahl means _laugh_ or _laughter_.”

“What was the other one?” Liv looked up then, and repeated the last two without their meanings. “I kind of like that Era one.” Emma laughed a little. “Sounds nice – and close enough to my name that responding to it shouldn't be too difficult.” Liv smiled and shook her head at the words.

“One name down, one more to go... and I do mean for you.” Emma quirked a brow. “Last name... Um...” Liv looked back at her cheat sheet and scanned it again. “Alas? Hamin? Mirthadra? Glandival? Serannas? I can keep going,” Emma was already shaking her head.

“How about you pick two and give me their meanings?”

Liv hummed again. “Since you picked Era... there's Glandival, which means _wish_ or _to believe_ , and there's Mirthadra, which means _honored_.”

“Era Glandival or Era Mirthadra...” Emma made a face. “I kind of like the first one better. Rolls off the tongue,” Liv bobbed her head in agreement and fished around for a pen in her Marvel backpack – it, along with her pencil bag, was in there; which she quickly moved to the new bag. She sure as shit didn't know how to use a quill and ink bottle. She scribbled down Emma's new name – _**Era Glandival**_ – in the top left corner. There goes one problem.

“What about yours? Are you going with a cultural neutral name or Qunlat?”

“Qunlat,” Liv was already flipping the cheat sheet upside-down where she had the Qunlat written down, right beside her dwarven. “Definitely Qunlat.”

“Any ideas?” Emma – er... _Era_ , now – resumed her packing and glanced over every once in a while.

“A few,” Liv admitted, her eyes scanning the words. “Asaarandra, it means _thunderstorm_... Ataash means _glory_... Hissera means _hope_ ; Herah, _time_...” Only two really caught her interest, out of all the ones there, and one was extremely risky. “Hissera,” Liv decided; if she had chosen Herah, there was too much of a chance of meeting an Inquisitor with that name – it **was** the default female name for a female Qunari.

Hope; it made her think of the spirit and she smiled a little at that. He had helped more than she thought.

Hissera... what though? Ash? Anaan? Ashaad? Kost? Talan?

Anaan meant _victory_... Ash meant _to seek_... Talan meant _truth_...

Hissera Talan? No...

“Hissera Anaan,” Liv decided.

Emma – well, Era – looked up from her pack at the words. “Is that you now?” Liv – um, _Hissera_ – nodded her head and scrawled her own name in the top right corner of the page, sealing the name in place. They were Era Glandival and Hissera Anaan now and she found herself growing on the idea. Like it was a school theater project or some shit and this was just another part to play.

Or... so she hoped. Fingers were crossed that the roles would be easier to slip into than she feared they would.

“We going the stereotypical route when it comes to what we tell them?” Liv thought for a moment about the question, and knew it would only make sense to stick to it. Nothing overly suspicious; only them knowing one another would seem strange unless they merged the two stories into one near the beginning.

Which was, more than likely, what they were going to have to do.

~~~

“Are the two of you done yet?” Flemeth emerged from her hut with a frown, next time they saw her; immediately after they had decided on their own personalized back story. A stereotypical background but their own, none the less.

“We're going; _we're going_!” Hissera – no longer Liv, or no longer trying to respond to the name – flapped a hand in Flemeth's direction and swung her new pack onto her back; her backpack lying zipped up on the ground at her feet. It contained her cellphone, both chargers, her pencil bag, nearly all of her scarves, and most of her notebooks – which wasn't much since she only had three to begin with. She took the most resilient scarves, one notebook, and a few pencils.

Era – attempting to stay true to that name instead of reverting back to Emma – shouldered her own bag and laughed over at Flemeth as she moved to Hissera's side. Hissera just continued to stare at her old bag... thinking about what all she had stored in her new one...

Did she need to take all that with her? … She would be coming back, after all... and she was going to war in Ostagar.

Her World of Thedas books wouldn't survive... Hissera knelt down to transfer the books and the cheat sheets over to the old bag, before she changed her mind, and stood with both of them in hand. “Fuck nuggets... I can't decide whether or not I want to take them or I want to leave them.” Flemeth and Era both gave her varying looks of exasperation; Flemeth's was more dry and Era's was more amused.

“Do you _want_ to bring them?”

“Well, yeah,” Hissera bobbed her head in the affirmative. “But I'm just worried about losing them during the Battle of Ostagar... maybe...” Hissera stashed the books and the cheat sheets in the old backpack and zipped it closed before she could change her mind. They would be more helpful _after_ Ostagar than they would while she was there. That, and she apparently didn't have enough time to sit down and make up a new cheat sheet for just Ostagar from either of the World of Thedas books. “I'll keep them here for now, I guess. I can always get them back later, right?”

“If I'm still here when you return,” Hissera stared at her while Era snickered, but Flemeth's smile said enough.

Hissera would make sure she would get those books back, come Hell or high water.

She quickly stashed both of her kits and the scarves she had into the old bag, knowing what all she would need would be provided for her at Ostagar; if she managed to get in with the Wardens.

_Shit._

_**The Grey Wardens.** _

“Well, this had been fun,” Hissera stood quickly and drew the strap to her new pack over one of her shoulders again. “But we really should be going.” Reaching out one hand, she caught a hold of Era's bag and tugged at it. In a child-like incessant way that was more annoyance than force. Era relented, with a groan of fake begrudging pain, and Hissera had moved her tugging from the bag to a piece of Era's sleeve that she could find between armor parts.

Flemeth bobbed her head at them while Era called out, “Thanks for the help!”

“It has been my pleasure,” Flemeth responded, her voice growing louder the further away they got; neither one stopping fully but they did slow down considerably. “Remember the reason the two of you are here! And remember, it was not my design for the both of you to be pulled into the mess the world has going on.”

“Elven glory,” Hissera waved a hand at Flemeth as she said it. “World peace – or enough of it to mean something to most people. And, of course, there's the ending the Blight thing we have to worry about...” Flemeth rolled her eyes.

“Be careful on the road,” Flemeth sounded more sarcastic than caring and Hissera somewhat appreciated that. It was more natural for her to hear sass than it was for her to hear something heartfelt and caring, it was just how her family was. It was the only way her emotional self could cope, at times. “Try not to get yourselves killed.”

“Knock on wood... _knock on wood!_ ” Hissera was rushing to the closest tree to rap her knuckles against it, leaving Era laughing in her wake while Flemeth just looked on in confusion – obviously not understanding the reference. “We'll be careful,” and then she was acting as if she hadn't literally sprinted to the closest tree with a look on absolute panic on her face just moments prior. “See you soon!”

“Let's hope not,” came Flemeth's bland reply and they were off.

They had only just made it out of sight, heading in the direction Flemeth had pointed them in, when a thought occurred to Era. “Hey Li – I mean, hey Hissera,” The Vashoth in question hummed in response, looking over at her. “Aren't we going to be heading towards Ostagar from the _wrong side_.”

_… double fuck._

“Shit, we are,” Hissera looked back in the direction they had come and stopped. “Why would she send us this way when she knows we're trying to meet up with Duncan and the Grey Warden Recruit? Surely she knows that they won't be arriving through the Korcari Wilds.”


	4. Darkspawn And Duncan And Death; Oh My!

“So,” Era began, “Do we go back or do we continue forward?” Hissera made a face as they both looked back and forth in the two directions. She grew more frustrated with each turn and finally, with a wordless noise of complaint, started towards Ostagar all over again. “Continue forward it is then.” Era sounded far too amused with Hissera's display and Hissera chose to ignore it.

Hissera bobbed her head side to side, mindlessly. “Maybe we can circle around once we see Ostagar in sight?” Hissera was thinking out loud more than she was expecting an answer. “ _Or_ keep on going and just look for Duncan once we're inside...?” Era had quirked a brow in question at Hissera's rambling and the Vashoth shrugged at her in response. It was a way she worked through her problems... though she normally did it _silently_.

“Maybe the time they arrive at Ostagar will be different than it would have been in game,”

“Yeah... maybe... they could have trudged through the night to get to Ostagar instead of drawing out their trip for an extra day.” Hissera agreed readily with the words, and certainly hoped they were true. If they had to camp out at the entrance to catch Duncan and the Warden Recruit... she wasn't sure if she was ready for that.

She hadn't even been on a _normal_ camping trip before – _what the Hell was she going to do when it came to traveling in **Thedas**?_

They walked for hours, it seemed, and Hissera was regretting the fact that she had decided to not bring her cell phone with her. She had almost talked herself into going back for it when they heard a loud _snap_.

That... didn't come from either one of them.

Hissera looked over at Era. Era looked over at Hissera. The Vashoth could feel the fear _physically_ settling into the pit of her stomach at the thought of what had made that sound. Did the test the spirits put her though have to do with whatever she would encounter later? Was it a wolf?

 **Nope**... _not a wolf._

It breathed heavily, a ragged breath being drawn in after each exhale, and its grotesque facial features and its eyes – while pupil-less – looked like molded glass and its teeth... Its teeth were sharp and pointed and _filthy_ and constantly on display...

_Fuck. **Darkspawn.**_

It made a noise, when it finally turned and caught sight of them, and Hissera jerked backwards whenever it let out an ear-splitting _scream_. Fucking thing was a genlock, based on its height... and it sounded _pissed_.

“Um,” This was the absolute worst time to freeze up but Hissera's first thought when she heard its scream was that, if it did what she hoped it _wouldn't_ , the two of them would end up being **_broodmothers_** for shrieks and ogres. It jerked forward with another scream, this time lower and not as high-pitched, and Hissera moved back to dodge the swipe of its axe at her leg.

_Not that she would need it as a broodmother!_

Era screamed whenever it had turned towards her next, apparently deeming Hissera the more difficult one of the two, before taking a swipe at her – she jolted out of the way herself and Hissera pulled her battleaxe from the sling it had been in between her back and pack... but what was she going to do with it? She knew she needed to kill it – _Hell, in-game she would have lopped its head off without concern_ – but **living** the experience? Did she swing at its neck? Did she go low – for the legs? What if she missed? What if she got hit to the point of near-death and it attack Era?

Gods... _what if it hit Era?_

The next time it swung at either one of them, Hissera clumsily blocked it with her own axe... locking them somehow. Which was the exact _opposite_ of what she wanted to happen. She wanted it _away_ , not up close!

It snarled right in her face and Hissera's fear was making her freeze up again.

_What the Hell was she thinking?! What made her think she would be able to do this?!_

It scream shortly after and pulled itself away from her and several steps back. Hissera took notice of it favoring one of its sides and glanced over to Era to make sure she was OK. Her daggers were out and bloody and she was panting with a glare... but OK.

_At least one of them knew what she was doing..._

“Stay **the fuck** away from her!”

… or maybe they were both secretly protective dumb asses...

The next time it lunged, again for Era, Hissera _swung_ – more like a baseball bat than she probably should have – and kept thinking to herself that it wasn't real. _It wasn't real._

_**It wasn't real!** _

Her gag reflex reacted quicker than her emotional state did when she watched the genlock's head fall on the ground... followed by the rest of it. She went to puke by a tree... but didn't even make it two feet before falling to her knees and hurling whatever was in her stomach onto the forest floor instead. She had never... killed anything before. She may have been from the south but she was always more of an indoors-y person and an outdoors-y one – she had never gone hunting, didn't much care for fishing, and was more of a animal lover than she should have been.

For all her big talk and _descriptive_ threats, Hissera was – oddly enough – a Buddhist and, generally, a **pacifist**.

This was, most certainly, not a place she needed to be in... and being a Grey Warden, in hindsight, is not something she needs to become. But she'd do it... because _like Hell_ she was going to leave Era to do it on her own. What else were they going to do in Thedas? _Open a bakery?_

… it wasn't an unpleasant idea, really.

“You alright?” Era's voice drew her out of her thoughts and Hissera glanced over her shoulder at the newly-turned elf. Hissera spat on the ground again, hoping to clear her mouth of whatever bile was left... only to gag whenever a string of saliva connected her mouth to the puddle. _Gross._

“Yeah,” Hissera spoke after getting her retching under control – or as much control as she could get over it – and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The taste alone was terrible, but Hissera drew a sharp breath in through her nose in a quick attempt at ignoring it.

_It didn't work..._

“You sure?”

“Not in the least,” Hissera admitted quietly. “But I'll get over it; just give me a minute.” Era bobbed her head in a nod out of the corner of Hissera's eye and the Vashoth glanced back over where she had stumbled away to see the genlock corpse exactly where she had left it. It wasn't an overly long fight... but when it involved a single darkspawn and two green-as-can-be fighters? It...

 **Wait...** what was a darkspawn doing by itself in the middle of the forest...?

_Unless it wasn't by itself..._

“We need to go,” Era had apparently come to the same conclusion during the silence that fell over them and Hissera was all too quick to agree. She didn't put the battleaxe back in its sling – like Hell she was going through that panic pulling it out again – and blew out a breath as she shifted it around in her grip while looking around. Era was quickly pulling her pack back on from where she had tossed it before she pulled out the daggers.

Hissera saw she didn't put those up either.

“To Hell with coming up on the wrong side of Ostagar; _let's go._ ” Hissera ushered Era forward and they were both walking a little quicker than they were before. More aware of their surroundings. More in tune with the sounds around them. More eager to get where they were going.

Neither one wanted to be out there anymore... neither one was truly prepared for what was going on. Sure they knew; but they weren't prepared for it.

Who is?

There was another sound behind them minutes later, they had been listening for it that time, and neither one wanted to go through another fight while they were still freaking out about the last one. At least, Hissera was... she wasn't all too sure if Era was but she thought so. It may have been a darkspawn, it may have _needed_ to be killed... but that didn't mean Hissera had to _enjoy_ doing it.

“We can't be that far from Ostagar,” Hissera told her when they heard more and more sounds that didn't exactly make either one of them think: _human_. Or even _elf_. Or _dwarf_ , if they wanted to push it.

And the noises they heard coming from behind them... did not sound like any of them. They sounded like _darkspawn_.

“The fucking genlock,” Era exclaimed, outrage rushing to her face. “When it screamed! It called for help!”

_**Fuck nuggets in shit sauce...** _

“We're going to have to run for it,” Hissera decided. She didn't trust herself to help keep them alive with a pack of darkspawn out to kill them; not with her skills being next to nonexistent. She doubted either of them would be able to do much to them at that point so their best bet was to get to Ostagar...

That and Hissera could still feel the fear in her stomach; the pit that had only seemed to grow since their first encounter...

_Where the fuck was Duncan when you needed him?!_

“Let's go then!” Era picked up her pace and Hissera did the same right behind her. The battleaxe was heavy in her hands but, when she heard the screams behind her, Hissera didn't care. The only thing she was worried about then was getting to Ostagar – the both of them. The screams were getting louder and they were getting faster, trying to put some distance between them. Hissera didn't see anything even resembling Ostagar in front of them and that was far from comforting. _How far were they?_

“Era,” the elf looked back at her before jerking her attention back to the front, showing that she was listening. “Go ahead, see if you can see anything!” Hissera knew she was faster – she _had_ to be, logically, since she was an elf and a rogue and wasn't carrying around a battleaxe that felt like it weighed nearly thirty pounds... and possibly _was_ – and she knew that Era had a better chance of getting out of there than she did at that point.

She wasn't thinking of _sacrificing herself_ , per say, but she was thinking of getting Era out of the hostile situation they found themselves in.

She needed them to get to Ostagar, together _or_ separately.

“ _What?!_ ” Era shot her a look. “Like I'm going to leave you out here!”

“Think for a second!” Hissera shot back, their combined nerves making her uneasy and waspish. “You get there, and – if I'm not right behind you – let the guards or Wardens or –” The screaming was louder then and an arrow whizzed past Hissera's face at that exact moment. She was sure her heart just stopped. “ **Someone!** Just go! I'll be fine!”

She certainly hoped she hadn't just lied to one of her only friends... or the only one she had, now.

Era glanced back at her, once... twice... then Hissera let out a breath at the smaller woman picking up her pace and sprinting ahead; hopefully in the direction of Ostagar and towards help. Hissera could only hope that, like in the game, there would be guards stationed at each and every entrance into Ostagar – the **king** was there, after all, and so too was Loghain; the man, as a general, wouldn't let anything get past without his approval.

As much as she disliked the bastard for what he would end up doing, even she would admit that he was an excellent general and he was a hero in his own right. Or he was...

Another arrow whizzed by and scattered her thoughts – which she was _almost_ thankful for considering the train of thought her mind was going down – and Hissera dared a glance over her shoulder to see what all she was up against.

“ **You better find someone, Era,** ” Hissera found herself shouting and hoping her smaller friend could hear. “ ** _Several_ someones!** ” There looked to be nearly a dozen, give or take, darkspawn behind her! Hurlocks _and_ genlocks! No ogres or shrieks, thankfully, but Hissera wasn't going to even think of it – _nu-uh, not going to happen, nope_ – and pushed herself as fast as she could. She could outrun the genlocks – _no way those stumpy legs would keep up with her longer strides_ – but she was beginning to worry whether or not she'd be able to do the same with the hurlocks.

Dodging one tree and jumping over a different fallen one, Hissera was wondering if she was even going the right way herself. Her legs were burning from use, more use than they had in a long time, and her side had a stitch in it; her eyes were watering from the chilly wind slapping into them and the battleaxe seemed to be weighing more and more with each step she took.

_Fuck she was getting tired._

“Hissera _down_!” There was a pause then, half a heartbeat during which time Hissera processed that – _yes, that was her_ – and ducked to the side as quickly as she could; even if she didn't see anyone ahead of her. She knew Era's voice, though, and could only hope she was no longer alone.

A roar drew her attention next and Hissera barely managed to catch sight of the dwarf that flew past her and shortly smacked into the closest darkspawn. The sound was far too close for comfort.

“Are you alright?” Era managed to find mother fucking Duncan. Hissera could almost kiss her. She had barely managed to nod before he turned and met the rusted blade one of the darkspawn had nearly run her through with. Hissera wasn't sure what had sparked it, really. One moment she was watching Duncan clash with two darkspawn while the dwarf with him took on a hurlock with a long sword... and the next? Lightning was smacking into one of the creatures attacking Duncan and sent it flying into the one that nearly decapitated the dwarf helping them.

 _Please be the Warden Recruit..._ Hissera's hand and chest tingled since the lightning had struck. Her hand was still outstretched and her eyes were still wide when Era made it to her side and several more darkspawn ran towards them. “Can you do it again?” Era looked torn between being excited and being scared out of her wits... so Hissera decided to help her choose.

“Fuck I hope so!” She grinned, because she had reached that point of discomfort, the feeling of the magic rushing to her fingertips was... _different_ , but Hissera could only hope that she could do it again. What was it that Wisdom had said when she needed to use magic?

_**You feel it.** _

Hissera didn't have the time to dwell on it right then, Era had lunged with her daggers suddenly and cut the face of one of the hurlocks that had locked onto them. Hissera found herself lifting her axe just as it turned back towards them with a wordless cry. Her axe sunk into its skull with a sickening crunch followed by a wet sound Hissera wasn't sure she would ever be able to compare anything to.

It wasn't real. _It wasn't real. **It wasn't fucking real!**_

Keeping those words in mind, Hissera turned to see if there were more... when something slammed into her side.

And then all she saw was **red**.


	5. Take Off Those Rose-Tinted Glasses And Greet The King

Everything had a red tint to it then... almost as if it was a twisted form of the Fade she had been in before. She almost felt _numb_ ; she didn't feel fear or sadness or pain or anything... She hardly felt the axe weighing heavy in her hand. But she did feel _**rage**_ – and it _burned_ under her skin like boiling oil, like charcoal being doused in gasoline after a lighted match falls. The rage flowed inside, it flowed outwards, it became all consuming and overpowering.

Hissera didn't like getting into fights because of it. She blacked out, each and _every_ time, and flew into rages. It was not comforting to know that it hadn't changed; if anything, she had hoped it would have changed – she could never control herself in these moments and she was a _ruthless **fuck**_. Had nearly put one of her cousin into an early grave once when he had pushed her a little too far... her aunt had still never quite been able to look her in the eye since it happened.

And that had been when she had only just made it into the double digits at age _ten_.

The red got darker the longer she was looking around. There were darkspawn, then there was her axe and arm, then two more darkspawn, her axe again. It had gone from ruby-colored glasses to heavily tinted shades... it was as if things were moving in slow motion. She _hated_ darkspawn, these especially, and she hated that they were attacking them.

They were attacking _Duncan_. They were attacking the future _Hero of Fereldan_. They were attacking _**Era**_.

Hissera didn't hesitate moving her limbs the way her body seemed to sing at her to do so. _Cut off its head_ , her fingers clenched. _Break its stance_ , her ankle twinged. _Make it regret ever setting a single foot out of the Deep Roads_ , her eye twitched. Her spine tightened and straightened after another body hit the ground; _make them all remember her rage_.

The light was slow to return...

She remembered her axe, she remembered having been surrounded by a sudden swarm of darkspawn... and she remembered the brief conversation – that wasn't _really_ a conversation – with Duncan before they were both busy once more...

But she remembered nothing else in between.

There was a hand on her shoulder and Hissera could feel something sliding off of her face; water maybe? Did it start sprinkling while they had been fighting? Did she go so far into her own head that she hadn't even noticed it started _raining_?

“ _Holy shit_ ; where did you learn how to do that?” Era's voice drifted to her through a haze, growing clearer the further along the sentence went... and with her voice came the aches in her muscles... and the pain shooting across the right side of her rib cage. Fuck did it hurt like a **mother fucker**.

“Do... _what_?” The haze was clearing more and more – nearly gone – and Hissera turned her face towards the sound of Era and found her and Duncan both standing to her side; Duncan's palm a solid presence on her shoulder with his fingers digging into her, not catching on her skin but still pressing her armor down against it. “ _Ugh_ ,” Hissera groaned then – everything was too damn _bright_ – and clenched her eyes shut, pressing one hand against them as the other held her axe's handle. “What did I do?”

“What _didn't_ you do?” A voice she didn't recognize answered her then. “I'm only a little surprised you didn't shove your axe down one of their _throats_.” _The fuck?_

What was that supposed to mean?

And who the fuck was talking to her now?

Taking in her surroundings after dragging her hand across her face, Hissera was instantly aware of what they meant. She wasn't ten-years-old anymore... and she wasn't a scrawny little girl swinging her fists at her marginally older cousin. She was a large vashoth, she had a massive weapon in her hand that was capable of doing serious damage, and she had flown into a **rage**. She shouldn't have been surprised by the carnage around her... but her stomach still did a back-flip right into her throat and Hissera was turning away before the images finished processing in her head.

She _butchered_ the creatures... had torn them to pieces. There was an arm lying separated from other body parts, a skull split in two still attached to one body while another was missing its head entirely, armor bits and pieces were scattered around the _blood_ and _guts_ and...

Hissera vomited, almost on her boots, at the way her stomach flopped at the reminder of what she had done.

“By the Stone, _urtok_ , what's with that? Weak stomach?” the voice was speaking again, saying something in a language that – at that point – could have been English and she still wouldn't have understood. Hissera waved it off and could only hope her stomach was done. She hated the way it left behind the nasty taste of rotten celery in her mouth afterwards... She hated the way her stomach clenched and relaxed at weird intervals and how her shoulders shook with some phantom exhaustion that she couldn't place.

Shaking her head, and regretting it because it made her skull feel tight and scrambled, Hissera turned to look at the owner of the voice... and let her head drop some so that she could see him. He was so _short_...

He was the dwarf from before, was the sudden realization. “I'm not exactly,” she paused to spit at the ground, wanting the nasty taste out of her mouth still. “Accustom to killing. It's not something I'm used to or _enjoy_ doing.”

“Shame.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Hissera admitted before shuffling to a different spot so that she wasn't hovering over her own vomit – like she _was_ doing. The smell alone made her want to throw up all over again.

“But seriously,” Era's voice again as Hissera leaned her head against a tree and tried to take her mind off of what she saw. Anything other than that... she didn't want to get sick all over again. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

“The abilities of a Berserker,” Duncan answered instead, apparently seeing how clueless Hissera was about the whole ordeal. “Have you never used such abilities before?”

“Not since I was a kid,” Hissera admitted, to all of them and not just Era. “I tend to avoid fighting for that reason alone... but,”

“ _But?_ ” Era questioned further.

Hissera stood to her full height again, glancing down at the dwarf she had spoken to before – what the blue fuck did he call her again? _Urtok?_ – then turned her attention directly to Duncan; making sure to glance at his shoulder before she continued to speak. The Grey Warden griffin was engraved into his shoulder piece instead of the twisting and curving lines he had in game. “I would like... to join up with the Grey Wardens; to help end this Blight.”

“It's why we came here actually,” Era agreed, falling into the story just as well as Hissera did. It was true; joining the Grey Wardens was, in fact, _one of_ the main reasons they were going to Ostagar.

“We were hoping to meet with the one in charge and ask him if he would consider us for recruitment.” _Can't give away that they know he's the one in charge_ , Hissera thought – reminding herself about what she constantly did at work whenever a big boss would wander in every blue moon: play innocent and _clueless_.

“I would say the two of you are quite lucky you had caught us when you had,” Duncan said – but didn't say that it was a good thing Hissera hadn't wondered closer than she had in case of a frightened archer on guard-duty... “I happen to be in search of new Wardens to add to the fold and I would say the two of you have earned a chance at filling such positions right alongside our dwarven friend.”

“ _Tch_ ,” the dwarf made the sound but Hissera could only find amusement in the noise, regardless of the fact that it was meant to be irritating. She had a faint reminder of Batman's son – Damian – and his own usage of the sound before Duncan stole her attention again.

“I wish to, _officially_ , ask the two of you to join us as we enter Ostagar. We must commence with the Joining as quickly as possible, as I am not yet certain whether you have contracted the Blight sickness from all the darkspawn blood you spilled.” _Thanks for the reminder_ , Hissera thought sourly to herself. She didn't remember swallowing any blood – _as disgusting as that thought was_ – and she didn't remember getting any cuts or whatnot during the rampage... but, then again, she didn't even remember the fighting.

Did she get the Thedas equivalent of a paper cut and just not notice? Usually it was the big things she missed and the little things she noticed...

“Only because of the Blight sickness?” Era asked, and Hissera couldn't help but wonder as well after the words were voiced.

“You both have shown traits that I have been primarily looking for in my search. You,” Duncan gestured to Era as he spoke. “Refused to leave your companion behind, even knowing the dangerous situation before you and the risk of harm and death you faced. And you,” He turned his attention to Hissera next. “Had stood before a force you considered overwhelming and refused to back down. You fight not because you are driven to or desire it, but because you know it must be done.”

Damn... no wonder he was the one that always recruited the future Hero of Fereldan. After a speech like that, Hissera felt confident – more confident in herself than she had been in years.

It reminded her of Courage, the spirit, and Hissera's expression softened at the thought. She couldn't help it.

“Well then,” Duncan extended his arm towards the two of them then, palm facing up in offering. “Welcome to the Grey Wardens.”

Era took his hand and had said something in reply but Hissera didn't hear it; she was too focused on the words that he had just said. They were joining the Wardens... Duncan himself, _the Grey Warden-Commander of Fereldan_ , recruited the two of them into the Grey Wardens. Hissera couldn't believe it.

_**It couldn't be this easy...** _

“This is Duran Aeducan,” Duncan finally introduced the dwarf – _he was a prince!_ – and Hissera grinned down at him as she nodded her head in her own silent greeting; she pointedly ignored his dismissive grunt. “He is also a Warden-Recruit.”

“Aeducan?” Era grinned towards him while he just narrowed his eyes at her in return. “As in the _dwarven royal family_ Aeducan?”

“Surprised a surfacer like you even recognized it,” Duran – the default male Aeducan name, Hissera noted – spoke, waving Era off as if she bored him and he wasn't tired of her presence. _Royals..._ Hissera hoped it was just because of what he had just been through and he wasn't a complete asshole all the time; because that was exactly how he came off.

Maybe it was just the way he spoke it all that made her think that...

“The Aeducan family is one of the longest running royal families in Orzammar,” Hissera commented, inclining her head again when Duran glanced over at her. “Must be a great fighter, too, if you were recruited as well – or did you ask to join as we did?” Hissera was so far out of her element that she was channeling her inner Shakespeare.

And only half-assing that as it was.

“It was a mixture of both circumstances,” Duran stated shortly. Hissera tried to remember what had happened in the Dwarf Noble Origin... and, after a moment, nodded her head to accept the answer. Trian and Bhelen and the old King Endrin. She wondered what his mother was like... “What in the Stone are you supposed to be?” Duran interrupted her train of thought before it could continue.

 _Well_ , Hissera thought to herself, _how the Hell was she going to explain this?_ Duncan stepped up, drawing all their attention, with an amused expression etched onto his face. Glad he found _something_ entertaining in all of this.

~~~

Hissera knew they would look at her differently because of being vashoth – _because of not being human or elven or dwarven..._ \- she just wasn't expecting the kind of welcoming she would get going into Ostagar. Duncan had lead them around to the entrance – where he would normally enter in the game – and the king met them halfway. She could lie and say that she was ready for it... _but she really **wasn't.**_

Who is ever ready to meet the king? Especially when they still had blood smears on their armor _and_ face!

“Ho, Duncan, I heard – _**sweet Andraste!**_ ” Hissera's attention had snapped over – her mind previously trying to figure out who Duncan and Duran reminded her of – and met the glinting steel of two long swords drawn directly at her. “When we were told you had found a recruit, no one ever mentioned them being a _qunari_!” _King Cailan looked like Chris Hemsworth... holy shit._ Hissera just found him adorable – she preferred **Loki** to **Thor** to be honest – but she wasn't sure how to feel about the swords being thrust at her.

“I'm not a qunari; I'm a _vashoth_ – there's a difference,” Hissera mumbled in reply, holding her hands up in surrender and hoping one of the guards with Cailan wouldn't suddenly decide to stab her. There were more guards there than there were in game... instead of two, there were six – and none of them looked like they were going to let her in.

“King Cailan!” Duncan stepped in front of her, as if shielding her, and held out his hands just as she did. “The three of these fighters have been chosen to join the Grey Warden ranks and are my recruits. Surely you will not turn away help in such times.” Era had moved to stand beside him – to be _another_ barrier between Hissera and Cailan's guards – but the vashoth had caught her around the middle nudged her back behind her instead. Last thing they needed were the guards thinking she was a wild Dalish savage and turning their blades on her as well...

Not that it happened _in game_ but their very existences weren't supposed to be there so she wasn't doubting anything.

Cailan held out a hand – _She finally remembered who Duncan looked like! He looked like **Manu Bennett**!_ – and ordered the guards to lower their weapons. _“They're friends, damn you, lower your swords!”_ Hissera wasn't sure how to take the sudden change in personality... had he truly just been that surprised?

She stopped herself and felt silly. _Of course_ he was surprised; even in the games, female qunari were only ever seen either in Seheron or Par Vollen or if they ended up becoming Inquisitor. Hissera felt stupid, really.

“I am King Cailan of Fereldan,” he turned back towards them once he made sure that all the guards had sheathed their blades once more. He looked between Era, Duran, and Hissera and seemed to zero in on Hissera. She could only hope he wasn't about to say something _extremely racist_... “Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks.” She knew it was something he said to every Warden that would have come with Duncan – she knew because she could practicality hear the game dialogue repeat _exactly_ what he said in her thoughts – but she still quirked a brow at how he only glanced at Ear and Duran.

Duncan glanced between them and Hissera managed to catch his gaze long enough to shrug a shoulder at him. “That is a fine and proper greeting – although, _unexpected_.”

“I had worried over whether you would make it in time for the battle,” Cailan crossed over, which made his guards shift uncomfortably, and tossed an arm around Duncan's shoulders. “It gladdens my heart to know that I will have the mighty Duncan at my side as we ride into battle. _Glorious..._ ” He looked so pleased by it all that Hissera had to wonder if all her thoughts on his true self were right. He was showing himself to be a dumbass and she wasn't liking it, so far.

_Please let him not be the dip-shit he was acting like... **Please?**_


	6. Ostagar Reactions & Famous Generals

Cailan murmured something to Duncan, leaning well into his space and lowering his voice to do so, before standing straight once more and tossing a grin back to the three of them – the Warden Recruits. They were the great three Musketeers, at that point...

Hissera wondered if that was even a _thing_... maybe in Orlais?

Wasn't Orlais the French one? Hissera reminded herself to sit down somewhere quiet after Ostagar and when she got her stuff back to write everything down. She wasn't sure when she was going to get another chance... or even if she would still be able to remember everything as well as she did _right then_.

“I would like to personally escort the three of you into Ostagar,” Cailan drew her attention. Hissera glanced down at Duran and Era – Duran's face finally clicked in her head; goddamn _Christain Bale_ with a _beard!_ – and found them looking right back at her with equally puzzled expressions. What the _shit_ was Cailan going on about this time? “After all, it simply wouldn't do for someone to mistake our new recruits for invaders and attack them.”

“Basically,” Duran started, “You're going to make sure no one loses their head by attacking the wrong qunari.”

“ **Vashoth** ,” Hissera butted in absently, already forming a habit of doing so. “I've never been a part of the Qun.” At least that much was true... “And you make it sound like I'd kill anyone that would make that mistake.” She made a face at Duran and he simply met her gaze with a flat stare of his own.

“You _literally_ ripped apart an entire scouting party of darkspawn **to pieces**.”

“Those were unusual circumstances and you _know_ it.”

“I don't know,” Era cut in with a smug little smirk. “You _were_ pretty scary... and you _did_ , in fact, tear off one of their heads.”

“She cut it off, actually,” Duran corrected as soon as Hissera opened her mouth to argue with Era as well. “Single swing; prefect line straight across. I will agree that it was a sight to behold, _urtok_.” _The fuck did that word mean?!_ It sounded so familiar but she couldn't place where she had heard it before! It was going to drive Hissera nuts! Hissera made a face at both of them, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks at being put on the spot and could only hope that the color wasn't showing thanks to her much darker skin tone.

She had _very_ high hopes for that...

“The both of you can go suck a dick,” Hissera mumbled to them both, shifting her footing and rubbing the back of her neck. She hated being the center of attention and she hated being teased in front of groups of people even more. “I can't even remember anything that happened; fuck if I know if I even _did_ that.”

“You – _what?_ ” Cailan's attention was caught and Hissera hated Era and Duran all the more when it seemed to be stuck on her. _Fuck nuggets, leave me be,_ she thought aggressively. “A whole scouting party on your own? That's quite the victory!” He was obviously eager for a story – Hissera could notice that look a mile away – and she only barely managed to hold in her groan of displeasure when he quickly moved to her side and blinked up at her with a wide grin. “How many were there? A dozen? Was there a mage amongst them? An _ogre_ even?” His rapid-fire questions made her expression become incredulous and for her to look down at him with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips.

“I can't remember,” She shrugged halfheartedly as he gestured widely off to the side for them to go first. Hissera hesitantly stepped in that direction and tensed whenever she felt the faint impression of a hand on her lower back. “It's all a red-tinted blur, really,” Her back arched underneath his hand – bending _away_ – and she made a face at the way the feeling only seemed to follow.

_Touching; touching; **touching!**_

“It was a small unit of only a handful of darkspawn, Your Majesty,” Duncan answered – _Hallelujah!_ – and Hissera took the brief reprieve to escape from Cailan's touch and quickly rejoined Era and Duran; Era seemed all too amused with Hissera's fast pace and tense form while Duran could only give a sympathetic nod in greeting at her returning to them. Cailan looked at his hand before looking over at her in mild confusion, something Hissera pointedly ignored and kept a close watch on his guards' hands instead; making sure they weren't drawing their swords over her being _too close_ to their king.

Kind of _racist_ , really...

Duncan took over the storytelling – or what passed as storytelling, she guessed – and Hissera tried to ignore not only _Cailan's_ glances... but those of his _guards_ as well. What did they think she was going to do; eat him?! Racist... that's what they were... Era slipping her hand into the crook of Hissera's elbow brought her attention down to the elf.

Era's sly smirk spelled nothing but trouble, really. “Looks like _someone's_ got a fan already.”

Hissera made a face at her; scrunching up her facial features as she did so. “Don't say that too loudly. Someone might hear you.” The sarcasm was evident and thick and Era snickered at it. Hissera felt something brush against her leg on the opposite side and locked eyes with Duran when she looked over.

“I'd speak quieter now,” Hissera went to reply when he continued. “Take a look around you, _urtok_ ; and do so slowly.” Hissera quirked a brow before doing as he bid, slowly lifting her head and glancing around with her eyes only at first... and felt herself growing tense once more. They were standing just inside Ostagar – having already walked over the bridge and passed the inner walls – and they had drawn quite a bit of attention.

A **lot** of attention, really.

Hissera reached out and curled a hand around one of the straps of Era's pack, keeping her close and reminding herself that she _was not_ alone. She had _Era_. She had _Duran_. She had _Duncan_. She had _Cailan_ , even. _She wasn't alone_ ; she kept repeating the phrase to herself.

_**She wasn't alone.** _

Duran rapped his fingers against her thigh to hold her attention as he stared forward and spoke to her out of the corner of his mouth. “Back in Orzammar, I had a habit of seeming to _ignore_ others – Gorim told me that people complained that I never paid any attention to them or what they were saying.” Hissera noted the name – _Gorim_ – and knew its significance. Poor Duran... he had been through so much already...

“Oh?” She started to move her gaze elsewhere but Duran rapping at her leg made her refocus on him.

“ **Ignore them.** ” Duran left his hand pressed against her thigh, not moving or wrapping around it. Like he had pat her leg then just left it there. “You do not owe them any sort of explanation. You do not need to amuse them. You are here for one purpose and one purpose only.”

“To help keep Thedas from falling,” Era answered for her, tightening her grip on Hissera's arm and looking up at her with a frown. Neither one had braced themselves for this kind of reception when entering Ostagar... and the fact the she was a _vashoth_ – a _qunari_ in all but religion – was something that she knew was going to be the first thing anyone registered about her. Even Era, when they had first woken up in Thedas, had reacted to her appearance first and foremost.

Flemeth, herself, had even commented on it.

_Ignore them_ , Duran had advised. Hissera set her jaw and looked forward, glancing around before locking her gaze on Duncan's back; following the path a leather strap crossed over his back and shoulder to keep herself occupied... before her gaze flickered around again to gauge the reactions of the people they were walking past.

_And it wasn't pretty._

One soldier had, at one point, drawn his sword and started to advance in their direction until another had grabbed his arm and said something to him that made him stop. Hissera looked back at Duncan's back. The next one to overreact, in Hissera's opinion, was a woman – _a runner, maybe?_ – that had stopped in her tracks and screamed. Full body, blood-curdling _scream_. She made it sound as if she was dying. Cailan said something to one of his guards and they broke off from their formation to go to the woman.

She started to cry hysterically shortly after the guard reached her and latched herself onto their armor, sobbing; her body was shaking and she was screaming something that Hissera couldn't make out. It was another language... _Antivan_ , maybe? It sounded Spanish... and Hissera recalled Zevran speaking some Spanish in the Origins game.

“I'm sorry for that,” Cailan's voice – or Chris Hemsworth's really – reached her ears and Hissera grudgingly turned to look over at him and away from the hysterical woman. “I'll make sure the word is spread that you are here to aid us in our upcoming battle and that you are here as a Grey Warden and not a –” He cut himself off, visibly biting at his own tongue and quickly trying to make up for it.

“Savage,” Hissera finished for him, her shoulders drooping as she looked over her shoulder at the groups of people staring in their direction. “It's alright. I should have expected such a reaction. Just didn't think it would be _this_ severe.” And that was true. There was _a lot_ more hostility in Ostagar than Hissera thought she would encounter.

“I didn't mean –”

“I know what you meant,” Hissera cut off Cailan with a shrug. “It's alright. No offense taken on my end.” Even if she was incredibly uneasy and stressed and her anxiety levels were rising through the roof.

Well... not that there _was_ a roof for them to be rising through at this point but it was the fact of the matter.

“Why don't the two of you look around and see if there's anything you can help out with?” Duncan had looked first at Duran and then at Era as he spoke. “Locate the Grey Warden Alistair, he should be able to help the two of you with anything you may need. I have a few preparation to make before the battle.” Hissera could see where that was going but was confused at why he was only speaking with Duran and Era. Wasn't she going to be participating in the Joining too?

_Or had he changed his mind?_

Hissera felt her stomach drop at the thought. “And me?”

“I had asked of Duncan to release you into my custody,” Cailan seemed to realize what that sounded like and quickly backtracked; _physically backtracked_ , at that, by what all his facial features did. “I meant, I had requested his leniency in allowing you to accompany me throughout the camp in order to avoid any unnecessary conflicts or misunderstandings.”

Hissera huffed, nearly snorted, in amusement. It was clear now why _Anora_ was the more political one of the two...

“So basically, you just want me to follow you around and stay out of trouble,” Hissera bobbed her head even as Cailan moved to correct her. “I'm OK with that; did want to go by the blacksmith to see if there was a way I could get all this adjusted,” Hissera gestured widely to her armor. Cailan seemed to perk up at the words.

“That I can have arranged,” Cailan quickly took Duran's place at her side when the dwarven prince moved to follow after Duncan. Era hovered at the opposite side still, looking about as conflicted as Hissera did. “I will make sure that my own smith takes a looks at your armor himself and sets it to rights.”

“Hissera,” Era spoke up, “Are you _sure_ you're OK with this? I can stay if you want me to,” Era knew that Hissera was never comfortable with new places or being surrounded by strangers but Hissera had long since managed to adjust. **She didn't like it...** but she could manage. Hissera nodded her head and nudged her in Duncan's direction; Duran and him both watching them quietly.

“Go ahead and go with him,” She waved her off. “You know more of what to expect around here than I would, anyway.” She meant the Origins side quests since Era was more of an Origins players than the whole game series that Hissera did. Era loved Origins most of all the games while Hissera was never able to fully pick one over the others. She loved the story more than the games so it worked; she guessed.

As much as she tore through the series and the lore and the story itself... Era was the better one to ask about general Origins facts – _in game based_. Hissera knew she would be able to work out everything quest-based at Ostagar while they were there, she'd be able to keep Duran and the others on task and on time.

Era made another face, glancing between Hissera and Cailan. “If you say so...” She turned and started towards Duran and Duncan then. “You'll meet up with us later, right?” She glanced over her shoulder as she asked.

“She will; there is much to go over with Warden Recruits and it must be done before the battle.” Duncan answered instead and Hissera was thankful for it. She wasn't sure how she was going to answer it otherwise, to be honest. “I will send for her when it is time, King Cailan. I thank you for this.”

Cailan waved his words off with one hand while his other settled on her lower back. Hissera tensed all over again. “It's no problem at all, Duncan; it will give me time to show her around and get her armor adjusted.” Hissera hated the touching – _she did not know him like that, dammit!_ – and she dreaded walking around with him being so touchy-feely but she did agree to it.

Besides, having her armor be adjusted by King Cailan's personal smith just sounded awesome. Not as awesome as it would have been if _Herren and Wade_ would have done it, but she supposed she had time...

Herren and Wade lived and worked in Denerim... had they were done any work for Cailan?

“I have heard tale of an exceptional smith by the name of Wade out of Denerim,” Hissera began once Cailan steered her in one direction and the other Wardens went in the other. She glanced over her shoulder to find Era doing the same. She turned back to Cailan after sending her a reassuring smile. “Would that be your smith, by any chance?”

“Wade?” Cailan cocked his head to the side and made a face. “ _Wade... Wade... where have I heard that name before..._ ” He shrugged after a moment. “It's familiar, as most things are when they deal with Denerim, but my smith is not named Wade and, I assure you, is exceptional in his own right.”

“Ser,” One of the guards spoke up. “General Loghain has requested your presence for the strategy meeting.” Hissera wanted to laugh at the face Cailan made right then but she didn't. She'll ask him later whenever they weren't swarmed by guards... _if that ever happened_ , that is. Cailan sent her a pleading look, as if asking her to make up some excuse for him, but Hissera just smirked and told him to lead the way to the meeting because _she didn't mind attending_. _Wouldn't do for the king to miss his own strategy meeting, after all._ He glowered at her and she breathed a little easier whenever his hand fell away from her.

The guards were doing more of the leading than Cailan was, really; Hissera was stuck at his side in the middle of the group walking towards the tent she faintly recognized as Loghain's in-game Ostagar tent – it was only thanks to having played the game that she knew it wasn't empty and that there was normally a guard posted right outside of it. Once they got close to it, one walked out of the tent to intercept them.

Hissera could only be mildly confused by it; who the Hell stopped _their king_ from entering some place? Who did this guard think he was, stopping Cailan when he was going to meet with Loghain?

“Your Majesty,” the guard banged a fist against his shoulder, in the way they saluted, before continuing. “Will you be going in alone or... will you be bringing your...” He glanced between them – as fucking everyone had been doing – and trailed off, not really finishing his question completely. Her distaste must have shown because that was the only reason she had for how Cailan reacted.

**Badly**... He reacted _**badly**_...

“My _companion_ ,” Cailan's voice was verbal steel and Hissera found herself staring at him wide-eyed at the pure hostility in it. “Is one of the latest _Warden Recruits_ that have decided to aid us in our time of need. She is here of _her own volition_ and she _will not be_ harassed or ridiculed or **tormented** for any reason while she is here; _am I clear on that?_ ” The guard barely uttered an affirmative before Cailan continued on. “You will apologize to her, **this instant** ,” Hissera moved to interrupt him that time... but she was ignored. “And you will go around camp and inform all within our ranks of such so that they do not make the same _grave mistake_ you just have.”

The guard saluted, banging both fists on his shoulders and bowing at the waist, and mumbled an apology that Hissera could only numbly acknowledge before he was hurrying off with a quick pardon. Hissera wasn't sure who was more stunned by the display: _her_ or _the guards around them_.

“Um,” Hissera was struggling to piece her thoughts back together again; they were still stuck over what had just happened. “Your Majesty? _Not that I disapprove of it_ , but what –”

“You risk your life just as much as the rest of us, simply by being here,” Cailan looked up at her – it wasn't much of a height difference... but she _was_ taller. **Damn.** “You will _not_ be treated with such disrespect. Not as long as I am king. And certainly not while you are fighting with us as an equal.”

“Oh,” She supposed that made sense enough. “Well, thank you, I suppose.”

Cailan shook his head. “It never should have happened, so please do not thank me for something that should have never occurred.”

“I'll just take that thanks back then.” Hissera mumbled, looking away from his icy blues and around the area they were standing in. The atmosphere, _at least on her end_ , got really awkward and Hissera wished she knew how to get Cailan back to acting like the dumbass goofy glory-hog king he was before...

This serious side of his was a little intimidating, to be honest.

“Please,” Hissera glanced in his direction to find him looking at her and holding an arm out towards Loghain's tent. She couldn't skirt his touch without being overly obvious about it, so she weathered his hand at her back and walked with him – but behind two guards – as they entered the tent.

And **holy shit** did the game _never_ tell them how _spacious_ the inside of it was! He had a desk, he had a display table – she guessed that's what it could have been called with the map and paper and scrolls lying on it – and he even had a cot off to the side. Looked... _comfy_ , actually; Hissera liked the simplistic look of it all – how everything was neat and orderly, regardless of first glance – and her inner writer gave him a few brownie points for the sight of all alone.

And she hated herself a little for it. Dammit, she was supposed to hate him _completely_!

“And here I thought you'd never show.” Loghain's voice, or what she thought was Loghain's voice, sounded a lot closer than Hissera was expecting it to be. There was a screen to the side of the cot and the man that walked out from behind it was pulling on his tunic and Hissera could barely keep herself from staring.

_Loghain Mac Tir was Richard Armitage! **Holy fuck!**_

That wasn't even _close_ to being fair! How the _blue fuck_ did he even age so well?!

“And you even brought a guest,” He didn't sound pleased about it either.

“Teryn Loghain Mac Tir, as well as my most trusted generals,” Cailan took a step to the side – and released her from under his hand – and made a sweeping motion in her general direction. “This is the latest Grey Warden Recruit... um...” The amusement was back, _full force_ , at the realization that he had never thought to ask her what her name was. He stood there for a moment, silence all around them, before Hissera decided to save him.

“My name is Hissera Anaan, Your Lordship,” Hissera attempted to do the same type of salute/bow-thing that everyone else did in Fereldan and gave Loghain a sheepish grin whenever she returned to her full height, glancing up and being mindful of her horns whilst in the tent. “I have come to offer my aid in the coming battle and hope to see the end of this war be in victory.”

_Thank the gods_ for her being a Shakespeare-nerd!

“Yes, Hissera Anaan, that was the name; had slipped my mind. My apologies, my lady,” Hissera could only just barely contain her laughter at the way everyone there looked at him – or, in the case of the guards, directed the look off to the side instead of at their king.

Loghain bobbed his head. “Greetings are in order then, I suppose,” His voice rumbled out, not as if he had meant to be heard but he was still going to say it anyway. Hissera knew the feeling... _and she hated it._

Dammit... she was seriously going to have to change her way of thinking about him if she was going to continue being here.

And her thoughts skidded to a stop at that.

She hadn't really given much thought on how long she would be there... she could be there for _months!_ She could –

“Hissera,” She looked right into Cailan's eyes when she returned to the conversation... or her right mind. _Whichever._ “Are you alright?”

“Ah, yes. I'm fine. Just not used to being around such powerful figures... I usually stay away from attention of any sort.”

“I would say that you have made the _wrong friend_ then,” Loghain's dry remark actually brought a smile to her face. Who knew he was a snarky piece of shit?

“One would think I would have better sense,” Hissera bemoaned the words, placing one hand against her forehead and looking heavenward as if she was deeply troubled. “Not that I had much of a choice, but I suppose I'll just have to make the best of it.”

“Hey,” Cailan pouted – _he actually **pouted!**_ – and Hissera took a step towards the display table and quirked a brow at Loghain when she did. He gave her a look – one she wasn't entirely sure how to describe – before nodding his head slowly and extended his hand towards it. Hissera finally made her way to it in a few short steps – which were actually long steps considering how long her legs were – and looked it over.

That... could have been the Tower of Ishal on the left. And that other marker could have been... the bridge? Fuck if she knew. It wasn't like she could actually understand the map as it was; it was more hand-drawn doodles and shorthand markers than anything else.

The one next to it she could tell was a map of Thedas, although smaller than the other, and one she could recognize. It was... more colorful than she thought it would originally be, given the fact it was practically the Middle Ages; she wasn't expecting the colors to be so vibrant.

She liked it; she wondered if all the paints were similar.


	7. Spending Time Away With The King... Sort Of.

“Are you from here in Fereldan?” Loghain questioned her, after his quiet talk with Cailan. Hissera had a brief moment of _'oh shit, what the fuck do I do now?'_ before she remembered the stereotypical background she had given herself and Era.

“Not exactly,” Hissera began. “I wish I could say I was. Fereldan is a very nice country. When I was in Orlais, the receptions were _a lot_ more hostile.” She hoped like Hell that it sounded believable...

Loghain's expression flickered and his expression became stormy. “You hail from _Orlais_?”

“No,” She knew the dangerous road that led to and wanted absolutely **no** part in it. “I was born in the Free Marches, somewhere I can't remember really, but my parents had taken me with them when they traveled to Orlais for mercenary work. They had been hired by some Orlesian that needed a dragon killed. The band my parents were with wasn't big enough for the amount of dragons they encountered. I was stuck in Orlais for a while after that.”

“You have my condolences.” Loghain bowed his head some.

_What the fuck was up with this Loghain? Wasn't he supposed to be dismissive and all about the upcoming war? **What was going on here?**_

Maybe it was because she was possibly the only Vashoth or Qunari or Kossith or _whatever_ in Fereldan – _save for Sten._

“My friend, Era,” Hissera went ahead and told the other half of their combined, weird, story. “She was orphaned near the same time I myself was. Whenever someone had gone to take advantage of her,” She _hoped_ it meant the same thing in Thedas that it did in America. “I had gone to help her. They were more frightened by _what_ I was, at the time, than what I could _do_. We've been together ever since.”

“How did you make it to Fereldan?” Cailan was the one that asked, moving to stand beside her; though he did wrap one of his arms around her as if shielding her from the rest of the world. Hissera shifted at the contact, well aware of Loghain's eyes on them.

“After so long around Orlesians, we thought we'd take our chances somewhere else in hopes of a kinder treatment. I had heard that Fereldan was more open about such matters. Less strict and more sympathetic, I suppose I could say. So we... made our way here by following some of the merchants passing through. Can't remember which ones, we tended to keep our distance and only got close enough to be able to follow.”

Loghain nodded. “It sounds as if you've already had quite the journey,” _And wasn't that the truth..._

“That is certainly one way to put it,” Hissera gave him another sheepish grin and moved away from Cailan so that his arm fell away; putting her an equal distance between the two. “Sorry to distract the two of you. There was supposed to be some kind of tactical meeting?” Loghain seemed to remember as well and looked over at Cailan with such an accusing look...

He _was_ the king's father-in-law, after all.

Cailan winced and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yes, I suppose we do have that to deal with.” He waved over one of his guards with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Fetch my smith; alert him that I have an urgent matter for him to attend to.”

“Urgent matter?”

“My armor is loose and tight in different places,” Hissera explained before Cailan could dig himself into an even deeper hole. “King Cailan has graciously offered me the assistance of his smith in setting them to rights.” _Please don't let that smack of special treatment; **please don't let that smack of special treatment.**_

Loghain's eyebrow quirked. “And the _camp's_ smith wasn't an option?”

“I had requested her company until the camp had been alerted of her presence in order to avoid any conflicts that her appearance may have been party to. To simplify matters, I offered her the use of Master Tomas.” Finally, she had a name to work with. “Warden,” Cailan called her by the title instead of by name that time. “My guards will take you to my tent so that you may have your armor adjusted in private. I will join you just as soon as the meeting is over.”

Hissera waved him off. “Take your time, I'm certain Master Tomas will. And it's not exactly as if I'll be going anywhere anytime soon.” _Wasn't that an understatement..._

She did the salute/bow-thing again to them both and went to follow after two of the remaining four guards left. She wondered, briefly, about what happened to the one that had stayed behind with the woman in camp. Hissera quickly put that thought out of her mind again – she didn't want to know, in the end.

~~~

The smith was... pretty withdrawn. He had walked into the tent – with his trimmed white beard and weathered bespectacled face – and took one look at her. “This will certainly be an experience,” was all he said in a low rough voice. Hissera liked him instantly. She had been just looking around the room – not straying from where she stood in the center of the tent to keep the guards from thinking she was snooping – and noting the similarities and differences between his tent and Loghain's when the older man had walked in.

He had ordered her to step behind the screen and strip out of her armor... and two of the three guards left right after he said so.

Thank the heavens for small mercies... she was getting tired of stripping in front of strangers. It was bad enough when she had in front of Flemeth, now that she thought back on it.

She sat in a plain grey tunic – which was the norm for something made out of pure cotton, it seemed – but was more of a faded, near white-beige shade of grey than solid grey... if that made any sense.

She _thought_ it did...

But there was her cotton tunic, that made her question general game-based cloth materials, and her matching cotton pants; her tights and her tank weren't showing – thank whatever deity out there that was looking out for her – and the pants were on the tight side and were tucked into the splintmail boots she had on. Tomas didn't ask her to remove those and she was grateful for that. He looked her over once she walked back into view, holding her armor bundled in her arms, and just **stared**.

“A lot smaller out of the armor than I thought.”

“I think you're the first person to have said so...” Hissera admitted, putting the armor down on the cleared off table he stood in front of. The smith looked between the armor and her before pulling a length of rope out from his belt.

He had _pouches attached to his belt..._ Hissera wanted some too!

“Nothing wrong with some meat on a person's bones,” Tomas spoke with a shrug. “You look like you could do with some extra.”

Well... that sounded a little more normal. For Hissera anyway. Back home, she had always been told she was too scrawny for her own good... But...

Hissera regarded him curiously. “You don't think I'm too big as I am now?”

“No,” His voice was short and to the point. He said nothing more on the subject and set to looking over her armor. After inspecting it, and glancing at her several times, he lifted his head and beckoned the remaining guard over. “Bring me Lillian. Tell her to bring her supplies and quick kit.” The guard did the salute-thing and... hesitated. “ **Now.** ”

And then it was just Warden-Recruit Hissera and Master Tomas alone in King Cailan's tent. _Awkward._

“Who's Lillian?” May as well ask... not like she was going anywhere...

Tomas looked at her again with that heavy gaze of his. “She is the king's seamstress. She leaves for Denerim first thing in the morning.” _Seamstress?_ The king's _tailor_? What the Hell would she need someone like that for? Her confusion must have shown because Tomas pointed at her... well her everything. “Your apparel doesn't fit correctly. She will fix them.”

“She doesn't have to do that!” Hissera **hated** complicating things! “They fit well enough and she should be more concerned with getting ready for her return trip to Denerim!” Maker knew how long _that_ would take them! “I don't want to cause any trouble...”

Tomas huffed and grumbled something to himself before gesturing towards her body again. “Hold out your arms and move your feet further apart.” And now came the measurements...

Hissera did as asked and held perfectly still as the older man moved the rope along the length of first one arm, then the other, he paused then and moved to the table again. He pulled a scroll – _it looked like a damn scroll, OK?!_ – out of one of his pouches, along with a charcoal stick that he used to mark on it. He then measured from the tips of one hand to the tips of the other – making sure to do it for when she was holding her arms out and when she had them resting at her sides. He measured the length of each leg, even, and the circumference of her bust, her hips, her waist – he even checked the size of her shoulders.

Hissera had to admit that he was very... _thorough._

Yeah, she'll use that word.

When Lillian showed up with the guard some time later, Tomas had already begun to ignore her and focus on the armor pieces – namely the chest piece – while she hovered over at his side watching him work. It was... fascinating, really; but it didn't look like something she would be able to do on her own, either. He had pulled out tools – ones she didn't know of and had never even seen before alongside ones that were only somewhat familiar – and begun tinkering fully with the armor when Lillian spoke up.

“What do you want now Tomas? Were you not made aware that I was to be leaving shortly? There is still much to be done,” Hissera winced as the words processed in her head, then looked over at the voice. Lillian was an older elven woman, pretty – _truly_ pretty – in her own way but she reminded Hissera a lot of one of her old high school teachers. One of the ones she got along with, anyway.

“Needs adjustments,” Tomas gestured with one hand – while still holding one of his tools – towards Hissera. “The king's newest friend. He's requested that we take care of her gear before the battle.” Hissera was lightning quick to correct him.

“Because of my race,” Hissera pointed up at her horns once Lillian's gaze went back to her. “The king understandably didn't want there to be any conflict by me moving around by myself so he had requested that I accompany him until word had spread of my presence. He had heard that I had planned on getting my armor adjusted and had generously offered me the services of Master Tomas.”

“You mentioned your armor,” Lillian frowned. “Not your clothing.”

“I did,” Tomas met her gaze when he looked up. “Good fitting armor can only do so much when dealing with mobility. If he clothing is inadequate, it affects the fighting skills.”

Hissera quirked a brow. _It did?_

Lillian pursed her lips and held Tomas' gaze for several long moments before huffing. “You always do end up making more work for me.”

“If it's too much trouble, you can –”

“No trouble at all,” Lillian dropped her hand bag – it looked more like Mary Poppins' damn bag, to be honest – and waved Hissera forward. “Come let me see you.”

_Here we go again..._

~~~

“I apologize for the wait,” Cailan began as he brushed aside the tent flap and entered with his guards behind him. Looked like they had all met back up with him. “Loghain was absolutely determined... to...”

“Her armor is old,” Tomas spoke into the silence that followed after Cailan trailed off. “But at least it fits her form now.”

“As does her clothing,” Lillian reached up, and Hissera bent at the waist to accommodate her, and pat the Vashoth on her cheek. “She'll be able to withstand several battles now.” Hissera had even been able to get her spare apparel adjusted while Lillian was there, so she owed the older elven woman much.

“And I can't thank the two of you enough for all of this,” Hissera smiled at the both of them. Tomas may have been a rather quiet man, especially once he got to working, but Lillian was – for her part – quite the chatter bug. They had gotten to talking and they hadn't stopped until just before Cailan had arrived. They had been behind the screen most of the time since Hissera was left sitting in her tank and leggings while Lillian adjusted everything else. She was just thankful she didn't have to take those off and that they had stretched to fit – as they were supposed to.

Small mercies...

“I... did not realize you had been called for, Mistress Lillian,” Cailan spoke while half of the guards took up positions around the room and the other half went back outside. Hissera could only assume that they were taking their places out there as well.

“Tomas had sent for me when he had noticed the state of her clothing, Your Majesty,” Lillian answered. She turned back to Hissera then. “And I do hope you will keep that promise of yours and come see me when this war is over, young lady.”

“It would be my absolute pleasure,” Hissera had promised to visit her in Denerim whenever the darkspawn threat was over with and possibly help her out with her tasks and family while there. Lillian had let slip who her husband was and was the father of her two children – both of which kept their lineage quiet. And Hissera was glad she had told her.

She also made Hissera swear to look after the king in the upcoming battle – she had said that he was, at times, foolhardy and brash in battle and wanted Hissera's... _particular presence_ to help keep him safe. Hissera didn't have the heart to tell her that wasn't how it worked, but promised anyway.

Darkspawn weren't exactly intimidated by appearances, after all.

“We'll be taking our leave then,” Lillian continued on, waving one hand as if beckoning Tomas as well... even though he was already standing in front of Cailan and waiting on her. “Do be careful... both of you.” And then they were gone.

“I did not realize you were associated with Mistress Lillian,” Cailan looked over at her once they left and his expression was... closed off. Did she do something wrong?

“We had just met,” Hissera tread carefully. “She's a delightful woman. Reminds me of a childhood teacher.”

“Teacher?”

“It was probably not the same kind of teacher you are thinking of,” Which, all things considered, it probably _wasn't_. “She taught me Common,” She was an English teacher. “And she taught me simple life-lessons and told me about the life she had once lived.”

Cailan strode forward, his expression still carefully neutral, and took a seat on the cot. “And Mistress Lillian reminded you of this woman.” It wasn't said as a question so Hissera didn't reply to it as one. She didn't even move to close the distance between them.

What was wrong with him?

“Leave us.”

And, with those two words, the tent emptied of everyone save for the two of them. The guards all saluted and left without a question and Hissera's nerves grew and she tensed and her anxiety rose. She didn't like it. It made her nervous.

“Did she tell you?”

_**Oh.** _

Well, that made sense then.

“About her family?” Hissera ventured. She continued at his nod. “She is lucky to have Tomas in such times of need.” Tomas may have been her husband, for all intents and purposes, but he certainly wasn't the father of her children.

Her very human-appearing children, it seemed...

“Indeed she is...” Cailan laced his fingers together and tapped them against his chin. “I trust you will keep her personal matters to yourself.”

“It's her story to tell, not my own. And it's none of my business, really,” Hissera answered honestly. She wouldn't tell anyone about Lillian – she knew all too well how sensitive her situation was.

Cailan bobbed his head and mumbled something in response. When he stood from the chair, it was as if nothing had happened. He was back to being a grinning idiot... but Hissera now knew better. Sneaky little king...

Interesting.

“I was informed that the camp has been alerted to your presence by now; there were even runners sent out to nearby outposts to inform them as well. As such, I believe it is time for you to return to Duncan. I believe his Warden Recruits were gathering nearby.” He smiled and went to the tent flap, opening it and holding it there while he motioned for her to go through first.

Back to reality, it seemed.

They walked to the camp that Duncan had set up – _remarkably similar to its in-game appearance_ – with Cailan at her side and his hand on her lower back; his guards following a short distance behind. It was silent between them, Hissera was naturally quiet but she was a little worried about Cailan's silence – she couldn't recall him having ever been quiet, really.

Was he really that concerned about what Lillian had told her?

It wasn't that unusual, really, considering how things were nearly twenty years ago... even if she was pretty surprised at who it was that had fathered her children...

"Ho, Duncan," The group gathered – Era, Alistair, Daveth, Jory, and Duncan – all looked over at Cailan if they weren't already. Most of them were still eyeballing her with wide gazes and disbelief. "I have made sure that the entirety of the camp has been notified of her arrival so your Grey Warden should have nothing to worry over for the rest of the battle." Was it just her, or did he sound extremely dismissive to her right then...

"Thank you King Cailan," Duncan bowed, in the Fereldan fashion, before turning his attention to her. "I take it that you have had your gear set to rights?"

"Yes," Hissera bobbed her head. "Everything actually fits now. So, we can continue on... unless Era needs me for anything..." She turned to look at their sole elven companion and she had nodded her head. Huh.

Duncan seemed to have taken notice as well. "Ah, it seems there are still things to be done," He nodded to Cailan then. "I thank you for looking after my recruit."

Cailan waved the thanks off instead. "Think nothing of it; those she had encountered while in my company seemed to find her most delightful." Well then, wasn't that nice...

_And deeply suspicious sounding._

Cailan gave his farewell and left shortly after, all the guards following after him - a few giving her nods and/or long looks before doing so. Hissera was... about as confused as she was understanding. Era's hand on her arm drew her attention away from royal matters - as it were - and back to what she was supposed to be doing: getting to know her fellow Warden Recruits and help Era with her quests.

"They say you Qunari women are bigger than most but," That must be Daveth, Hissera thought to herself when she looked over at the one that had spoke. Brian Hallisay stared back at her when she met Daveth's gaze and she was beginning to wonder if all the actors and actresses back home would end up making appearances in Thedas. "I guess my imagination just wasn't doing you justice," He grinned at her, visibly uneasy about it all, but Hissera found it funny - _and upsetting at the same time_ \- and played along. She could only hope it would break the ice.

_It wasn't as if she had long to get to know him..._

"Not that I would know what Qunari women are like, to be honest," Hissera returned his uneasy grin with a weak one of her own and felt the claws on one of her hands scratching at the back of her neck when she began to rub circles on it. "I'm a vashoth, not Qunari; I have never been in the Qun and I wouldn't know anything about it, really." Which was only _partially_ a lie... since she did, in fact, know quite a bit about the Qun and all its teachings... she just had never been a part of it. And her nerves were affecting her speech and making it harder for people to understand what she meant.

_Yeah... totally what she meant._

"No?" Daveth looked confused and looked over at Jory - _she could only assume that's who Craig Fairbrass was_ \- and Alistair - _It was **Chris Pratt!** Fucking yes!_ \- before turning his sights back on her. "I thought..."

"Well, this has been all very nice," Alistair - _she still couldn't get over the fact that he was Chris Pratt_ \- clapped his hands together and stepped forward, as if to break up the conversation physically. "And, you," Alistair grinned over at her with the ease of someone who was eager for a new friend. "Welcome to the Grey Wardens."

_They definitely made the right choice in joining._

Hissera's grin became more natural then and she happily took his arm - in the weird men-at-arms type of handshake people did - and nodded her own greeting before completely introducing herself. "I am Hissera Anaan."

"My name is Alistair," He released her and she was extremely glad that he didn't keep the contact for longer than necessary. "This is Daveth," The Denerim thief, recruited through conscription, waved in her direction with a flirty grin in place instead of his previous uneasy one. Weird. "And Ser Jory," The Redcliffe knight continued to regard her with unease but he bobbed his head towards her all the same. He may have even mumbled a greeting. It was certainly different from the game... "And I assume you already know Era."

"We came in together with Duran," Era piped in, a smile on her face as she leaned forward and gave Hissera a one-armed hug that was greatly returned. Hissera nearly lifted the elf right off her feet and snickered whenever she received a punch to the abdomen for her effort. "Now come on, I need your help with something."

Back to business.


	8. Who you? ... YOU'RE WHO?!

" _This_ asshole here," Era was explaining. "Is supposed to tell us about the Wilds Flower that can help heal the sickness the Mabari hounds have... _and he isn't telling us anything!_ " _Ah_ , Hissera thought to herself, _that's what it was._ She was more of a cat person than a dog one but she knew Era **loved** dogs and always got her Mabari hound in game. She hoped she wasn't thinking what she thought she was thinking. "He said all the dogs are fine and healthy whenever I ask him about them."

"Have you tried going over there with Duran?" Hissera asked. "Maybe it has something to do with him being there." Since technically **he** was supposed to be the one doing all these quests...

Era bobbed her head one way and then the other. "It's possible." She conceded. "I had asked him to take care of the hungry prisoner for me - since I doubted anything I said would have mattered," She turned to give Hissera a flat look. "Even in Ostagar there is racism against elves and it's starting to royally piss me off." Hissera could only nod her head in agreement. She certainly knew what that was like...

The Kennel Master, as he was referred to in-game, was exactly as he looked in-game. She couldn't even picture him as any particular actor that she had ever seen before... though he did look a little like Loghain now that she thought about it. And whenever she walked up, with Era in the lead and a little ways ahead of her, the Kennel Master had only spared her - Era - a glance before speaking. "Stop asking me if I need help with the dogs."

"I _know_ you need help. This is a war zone and those are war dogs, at least a few have to need my help." Era's response was damn near automatic. Hissera wondered how long she had been badgering the poor sod.

"Excuse me," Hissera hoped he wouldn't run screaming as soon as he noticed her. "Are there are sick dogs here?" His head lifted to regard her... and continued to rise until it met her eyes and she watched with a slight frown as his gaze widened.

"I - uh - there are, yes," Amazing how quick a person changed in the face of a larger race. "Several in fact."

Hissera just quirked a brow in silence.

He sighed, in apparent defeat. "I'm not sure if your friend is even big enough to help me with what I need." He stood from where he had previously been tending to one dog and exited that particular barricade. "There are a few dogs that need to be muzzled." _**Jackpot.**_ "But you are," He directed his gaze back to Era. "Awfully small, no offense."

Offense was taken, Hissera was sure, but she was glad that Era just stayed silent that time. There were five dogs in total that he said needed help. Two of them needed to be put down soon if they didn't get any help and the other three he was worried weren't going to make it through to the next battle. Hissera felt like crying whenever she looked at them. She couldn't even watch the Animal Planet channel because ASPCA kept having commercials on there that made her depressed. Hissera was too emotional for all of this...

Four of the dogs didn't have masters anymore, being left in the kennel until they could either be used or bonded again, and the only one that did couldn't be around his master until the woman was healed enough to move without hurting either one of them.

War... it hurt everyone involved.

Naturally, Era and Hissera both offered their help for whatever he needed. Hissera freely admitted that she knew next to nothing about Mabari dogs and their biology - which the Kennel Master had chuckled at - but she was more than willing to learn if she needed to. But she left the muzzling bit to Era and Duran - whenever the dwarven prince finally showed his face.

Hissera had been leaning over the railing and letting a hound sniff at her hand - those were **huge** fucking dogs and there was _no way_ she was stepping inside there without them knowing who she was - when she heard footsteps behind her and turned - _and looked down_ \- to find Duran at her side with a frown on his face as he regarded the dog in front of her.

That's right... he had never been around Mabari hounds before...

"These are Fereldan's famed Mabari?" Duran didn't sound all that convinced, but he did sound a little curious by the inflection in his voice.

"You could say that," Hissera left her hand dangling in front of the Mabari as she spoke to Duran, being mindful not to turn away for even a moment. She... wasn't all that crazy about big dogs... even if she did like the sight of them. She had once wanted a Great Dane, after all. "You want to give it a try?" She asked, gesturing with her free hand at the small space in the fence that he could squeeze his hand through. He hesitated, she could see him twitching his fingers as if imagining them already through the fence, before he stiffly nodded and thrust his hand in.

The Mabari stared at it for a full minute - after she pulled her hand back - before shuffling closer and sniffing at his fingers instead of at hers. She preferred it, to be honest. Animal person she may have been... canines were not her forte.

 _ **She'll say it again,**_ she was not real big on actually being around large dogs...

The Mabari was a female, stocky - just as the rest of them were - and was a little bigger than her male counterparts. She seemed to like Duran, if the lick at his hand was any indication. Yet again Hissera wondered to herself, what the blue fuck did she know about hounds? Damn dog could have been tasting him for all she knew.

"I'll let the two of you handle this," Hissera was already walking backwards and away from the kennel and all the barking. Her love for animals could only extend so far... "I'm sure there are other things I can be doing than helping dogs that I'm not even comfortable being around." Maybe if she didn't know that they were fully-grown war dogs often times bred for battle and death... but she did know. And she was not going in that kennel.

Nope.

Not happening.

Absolutely not.

_No._

"Don't tell me you're scared of this little dog," Duran looked more amused by the idea than Hissera thought he had any right to be. Damn it, he was supposed to be stoic and broody and regal and anything other than this **sarcastic shit** she was looking at with mischief dancing in his eyes. "Big bad _urtok_ doesn't want to play with the puppy?" Hissera made a face at the words.

" _Puppy?_ " She nearly squawked the word when repeating it. "That, my good friend, is **no** fucking puppy. I don't know who lied to you and told you that load of _horse shit_ but I promise you that she is **not** as _young and youthful_ as you seem to think she is." If she hadn't been talking about the Mabari, she was sure she would have been slapped for what she had just said. Any other woman would have taken offense...

She just hoped the Mabari didn't... It would be a damn shame to be remembered as the Vashoth that had climbed a tree in record time just to escape the Mabari hound a forth her size. But the hound just made a snuffling sound in her direction before licking Duran's hand again. Hissera could only hope that she stayed docile and reasonable... and possibly bonded to Duran. He looked like he needed a dog.

Man's best friend and all that jazz.

"Where are you heading off to?" He didn't seem overly concerned with where his hand was now that he had a chance to interact with the hound - something she hoped never changed - and Duran kept his gaze on her instead of where it needed to be; at least, in her opinion. "Without telling your keeper, too," He _must_ have meant babysitter... Hissera thought to herself and looked over in the direction he had gestured in and watched Era rub on two of the five dogs that needed their attention; only one of which was muzzled. _Please don't let her end up bonding to **two** of them_ , Hissera silently hoped to whoever or whatever would listen; her nerves wouldn't be able to handle being around that many dogs for that long of a period.

She hadn't done so in _years_...

"I think I'll take this opportunity to take a look around the camp myself," Hissera shrugged her shoulders. "I've been stuck getting everything I owned re-sized for the better part of the day and I would like a chance to at least see who all I will be fighting and possibly dying beside." Sounded a lot darker out loud than it did in her head... Hissera hoped that Duran wouldn't take that in the way it definitely sounded. She was certainly in no hurry to die.

Duran made a face at her words but just solemnly nodded his head. "I'll let the girl know if she questions where you have gone... try not to get yourself killed before the battle." He smirked. "Would be a damn waste."

She knew she liked him for a reason.

"I'll meet up with the two of you later," Hissera called over to him, waving limply as she walked off. "Try not to get yourself mauled by that bear of a dog," She grinned over at the Mabari just in case she took offense. The Mabari just barked at her and nudged her snout underneath Duran's hand so that he would understand that it was OK to pet her. He absentmindedly did so.

Hissera will swear with every breath in her body that she didn't duck her head and sneak off after glancing over at Era - _she didn't_ , OK, she just looked over and walked off. Duran's point of view on the event didn't matter, either.

Ostagar was a lot bigger in real life than it was in the game and Hissera found herself feeling extremely small when looking around the area. It didn't matter than she was the tallest one there, the area itself was huge. She found the camp smith, who side-eyed her until she moved on, and she also found the imprisoned deserter, who was looking awfully satisfied in his hanging cell while the guard beside him just looked pissed. These were things she had been able to see through the game - _sort of_ \- and she wanted to see what else Ostagar had in store.

Like what the other Grey Wardens were like for herself instead of through any story Alistair would be able to tell.

She wandered for a while, aimlessly only after she realized just how lost she was, and noticed someone staring at her. An older woman in a long robe, she supposed she could call it, and there was something just... so _damn familiar_ about her...

_Why did she look so familiar?_

She looked like the queen from the Princess Diaries movies! Julie Andrews! Mother fucking Mary Poppins was staring at her!

And that was the exact moment she realized she had been staring right back...

"You must be one of the latest Grey Warden Recruits," She even sounded like Julie Andrews... but why did her voice remind her of someone else...? "One of Duncan's I hear. He is not a man easily impressed; you should be proud." It was a nagging feeling then, on the very tip of her tongue and just past her immediate thoughts. Why the Hell was she so _**familiar**_? "Allow me to introduce myself," She smiled and Hissera couldn't wait for her to finish. "I am Wynne; one of the mages summoned by the king."

**Holy fuck.**

"I'm Hissera Anaan; it's a pleasure to meet you." And, _holy shit monkeys_ , was it ever! She couldn't wait to recruit her and learn how to control her magic... before she flipped out at the wrong time and fried someone she shouldn't...

"Well met," she nodded. "And good luck to you on the battlefield; to us all, in fact." She smiled then before Hissera could have a chance to speak. "Although it seems as if you may fair better than most in the upcoming battle." Hissera couldn't help but laugh at that.

Until the thought finished processing in her head... "Not too much better, I'm afraid," Hissera looked around before stepping closer to Wynne, thankful that the mage didn't shrink back in fear or disgust. Small mercies. 

She was about to ask her about the Fade and about darkspawn creation and magic... but she stopped herself. That was not the conversation she needed to be having with the enchanter. Those conversations were better left for her to be having with Duran... if she hadn't had them already with the gruff dwarf. Not that he didn't have reason for his attitude, though...

He was getting better, at least.

A few more moments of idle chat – that mostly involved Wynne telling her to be careful and not to let anyone use her appearance to determine her worth – Hissera thanked her for her time and moved on. It was like talking to one of her regular customers back home all over again and the nostalgia was sickening just as it was warming.

Hissera had mixed feelings on it.

Hissera quickly got lost after she left Wynne to her own devices. Ostagar was so much bigger than she had been shown in the game and she was quickly coming to realize that the same would be said for **everything** she was going to be encountering in Thedas... and, though delayed, the thought made her stomach drop.

Not that she had anything left in it to hurl.

She just wanted to meet the other Wardens, to be honest; even if she was sick to her stomach, deeply confused about near everything around her, felt as if her skin had an inch worth of dirt and grime on it – despite the brief run-over Lillian had given her face with a wet rag... All Hissera really wanted to do was take a long shower involving seven different types of soap then soak in a tub with music playing...

She supposed the Thedas equivalent would have been sitting in a hot spring with a bard singing to her...

Did Thedas even _have_ hot springs?

A body slammed into her then and Hissera found herself stumbling back a step as her equilibrium was thrown, her hands automatically shooting out and grabbing onto the shoulders of whoever had just run into her – more to keep them from falling on their face than to keep them from running off. “Oops,” Hissera mumbled before speaking normally. “Sorry about that; got lost in thought. You alright?”

David Giuntoli was scowling up at her and her mind went blank.

_Holy shit; shit; shit; shit; fuck; oh my sweet mother of **damn**!_

Thedas was going to be the death of her ovaries if she'd already seen so many of her favorite actors and actresses as the cast. It had her worried about later...

She was so _fucked_.

“Hey!” Hissera jerked back to reality and found herself the main focus of a couple of other soldiers as well as the one she was unintentionally holding captive. “You mind letting go?” She pulled her hands back with another mumbled apology. “No, it's fine; was probably my fault anyway.” His brow furrowed when he said it; Hissera wasn't sure if it was an automatic response to her apology... or if he actually meant it. Either way, it had her waving off the words with wide eyes and she was _still staring at him!_

“Sorry,” Hissera shook herself and tried once more to focus. “It's just... you look so familiar to me. Have we met before?” She seriously doubted it... but she needed a name to go with the face.

“Doubt it,” He said, rolling his shoulders and fixing her with a frown. “I'm Carver Hawke; maybe you've met my brother: Garrett.” He didn't look impressed – _or excited_ – about it at all.

But Hissera had nearly stopped listening the moment he introduced himself.

Carver! And a male Hawke – must have been a mage if he wasn't there...

Or was he there?

… Was there ever a time when a mage Hawke went with Carver to Ostagar? She couldn't remember.

She doubted it, though.

“I don't think I have but it is possible.” Hell's bells, anything was possible at that point. “I'm sorry again about all that,” She smiled at him, hoping to get him to just stop frowning and lighten up. “My name's Hissera.” She held out her hand, fully intending on the doing the weird Fereldan warrior handshake thing.

Carver – **the** Carver Hawke – wrapped his fingers around her wrist and nodded his head with the motion, his frown slowly receding with more interaction. His face was about as blank as it was going to get, it seemed, now that the scowl was gone. Her fingers were able to completely encircle his own wrist and she wondered at the size difference for a moment.

He just seemed so _small_... even when she could see that he really _wasn't_.

“So... you're a Qunari?” He didn't sound pissed off when he said it so she decided it was just a curious question. Then she remembered he grew up in Lothering where Sten was caged up.

“It's complicated,” She scratched at her cheek before cringing – reminding herself that she needed to wash before touching anything edible. “I'm a Vashoth, not a Qunari.”

“What's the difference?” He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. Hissera made a face, she knew it was a weird one from experience but couldn't help herself. Was Thedas _always_ this consistent in its blatant disregard for other races?

Just based off her experience with elf characters, she knew that it was.

Hissera looked around and found a few upturned logs nearby. “Do you really want to know?” She inclined her head back towards the possible seating choices and watched as emotions and thoughts flickered across Carver's face before he nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.

Well then... may as well explain what she knew. At least someone would understand.

~~~

They talked for a long time, she was almost embarrassed to admit; and, during that long conversation, she explained what she could about the difference in what _she_ was and the difference in what _Sten_ was – whenever he finally admitted to there being a Qunari in Lothering before he had left. She tried not to reveal too much about Sten but she was able to skirt around quite a bit.

Like how she was a **Vashoth** , not a Tal-Vashoth or Qunari, and the race was actually called Kossith once but was now known as something entirely different. The Kossith were before but the Qunari were the here and now. She explained the Qun in as few words as she could, hoping the information would help him once he hit Kirkwall, and she struggled to explain how the class-system worked in their own culture.

That, at least, was something Carver understood a little better.

He asked about what he could think of about the Qun – regarding the religion itself and its thoughts on marriage, which she had found odd at the time but it was a fairly legit question at the time of their conversation.

He was actually relaxed around her by the time they were done talking about her now apparent race and her not religion. It was the exact time she decided to disclose a little information to him.

“I've got a bad feeling about this battle coming up,”

“It'll be fine,” Carver shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing we hadn't already faced.”

“ _ **No,**_ ” Hissera stressed the word and watched as something flickered in his gaze. “There's just...” If Carver was as in-tuned with magic-users as she thought he was, he would heed her words... And she hoped like Hell she was right. “I'm a Warden Recruit,” She may as well bend some rules while she was at it. “And there are some things I will never be able to talk to other people about concerning the Grey Wardens,” Carver's eyes had widened at the beginning of her words – about her being a Warden Recruit – and she knew he had only heard that first word and not the second. “But. I like you. It's nice to meet someone that doesn't judge by what they see. And I don't like the thought of you dying here.”

Carver grunted then; more a noise of amusement than anything else. “No one likes the thought of dying here.”

“Yeah, yeah; rub it in, you little shit,” She grinned when she said it to take the edge off and Carver huffed at her with a small upturn to his mouth. She almost got a smile out of him then. “But something bad is going to happen and I want you to be prepared for when that happens.”

There were several long moments between them, during which time several soldiers stopped by and asked if the _little Hawke_ was alright; he answered in the positive each time.

The words that broke the silence were from him. “What can you tell me?”

“There are more darkspawn coming than any of us will be expecting.” She shifted her weight, looking around them and lowering her voice. It would be just her luck that an _actual_ Grey Warden would walk by and go to shut her up before she could tell him. “And there **is** an Archdemon involved.” Whether or not the Archdemon had finally been unearthed was a matter he didn't need to hear about.

He paled a little at the words. “ _A Blight._ ”

She nodded sternly. “Yes.” She could be serious when she _needed_ to be. “If the battle fails, go north.” Not that you wouldn't anyway. “Outside of Fereldan if you can manage. The Blight will tear this country apart if left unchecked.” Fuck, she was even starting to _sound_ like a Grey Warden.

That was as much a good thing as it was bad.

Carver slowly nodded his head, accepting her words but saying nothing about whether or not he would leave. She didn't see him as the type of person to abandon the battlefield before the end... and she didn't see him as a deserter either.

She pictured him the exact way he was written – being dragged off the field when those around him determined the battle was lost and he refused to stop fighting.

It was a little hard to remind herself he was _only nineteen_.

“And what of my family?” His frown deepened as he looked up at her. “Any great advice for what I'm supposed to do about them? I can't just leave them.” _Who the Hell would leave their_... Hissera didn't finish that though; she knew it was very likely that some people would leave their families to save their own lives. It was relieving to know Carver wasn't one of those people; to have those thoughts reaffirmed.

“Take them with you,” She didn't feel the need to stress it. “Keep them close, though, and be mindful of ogres. They're unpredictable and ferocious. More so than their smaller counterparts.” _Fuck nuggets with green sauce,_ she wasn't supposed to know this much about darkspawn! She seriously hoped no Wardens heard her talking about them... “And don't forget about meddling old mages.”

“What?”

“Ignore that,” She covered her face and curled down to put her forehead on her knees. “I really need to stop talking before I get in trouble.” A hand landing on her shoulder had her peaking between her fingers, but still refusing to lift her head.

Carver was frowning again but she was almost expecting it at that point. “I... appreciate this.” And, by the look on his face, he really did. “We may not see each other again if you're right so... Thank you.” It wasn't a earth-shattering statement... but Hissera still felt the relief and appreciation.

He would be fine; hopefully the rest of the Hawke family would be too. Especially depending on which sibling was destined to die by the ogre; depending on which eldest Hawke sibling she would _hopefully_ meet one day.

“There you are!” Hissera quirked a brow at Carver before turning to look over her shoulder at who had spoke. Brian Hallisay – or Daveth, really – was standing there with a breathless smile on his face. “Your little elf is threatening to tear the camp apart unless you're found.” Hissera just rolled her eyes at the words. Era was all bark and no bite, at that point; she was just worried was all.

Carver huffed from his place in front of her. “That's my cue to leave, it seems.” She gave him an apologetic smile, sheepish in its very nature, that he halfway returned. “Take care of yourself, Warden... maybe we'll see each other again.”

 _Bet your fine ass we will,_ Hissera thought to herself as she watched him leave for a moment... then remembered that Daveth had been standing nearby. “I do just **love** to watch them walk away,” She grinned over at him and was relieved when he snickered in response. From one pervert to another, they would get along just fine...

For as long as he was alive...

“It'll be dark soon,” Daveth commented as she stood to her full height – nearly a _full head_ taller than him – and she watch his easygoing grin slip into a more sheepish one. Dammit, he was nervous again... “Duncan was wanting us to meet up at his tent so he could discuss the Joining with us.”

_**… the fuck?** _


	9. "Consistency is Key" & She Hadn't Heard That Story Before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for the late posts!
> 
> Life gets in the way and the actual games take up my time (AGAIN) when I'm not at work or typing through a writer's block.
> 
> I love comments, by the way! :D And I do love that everyone is chill with one of the MGIT being a Vashoth/Qunari! Not many of those out there... and even fewer ones that involve Wardens and all the games.
> 
> BUT I DIGRESS!
> 
> I want to thank you all for your continued support and love for the story - it means a lot - and I want to hear what you all think! I try to drop hints and whatnot in comments but the story is going slowly and is going to become very involved.
> 
> VERY SOON.
> 
> Just sayin'. :P

Hissera frowned – _this wasn't what they did in the game_ – but followed Daveth back to Duncan's tent; she wouldn't have been able to find it, lost as she was.

They were all there, gathered around Duncan's tent, when they finally arrived; Daveth **loudly** announcing their return. Era stood up, the look on her face telling Hissera that she was about to get yelled at. She noticed not many people had that day so it was actually turning out to be fairly _outside_ the norm. Duncan lifted a hand and motioned for her to sit back down just as Hissera slid into place on Alistair's opposite side instead of beside her, with Duran seated on the ground just opposite of her; Daveth had more space beside Jory but Hissera liked it where she was.

Alistair practically _radiated_ enough heat to be a second fire with how close she was pressed against his side.

“At first light, all of you will be heading out into the Wilds,” Duncan began, using a small knife to cut into the apple he had cradled between his hands. “There, each of you will retrieve two vials of fresh darkspawn blood. It will be needed for the Joining.”

Daveth jerked, Jory started, Duran barely quirked a brow in question; Era and Hissera both knew and didn't react. They knew what the Joining entailed. “What would we need that for?” Jory was the one to ask and he sounded far more worried than confused.

“I cannot discuss certain matters of the Joining out of necessity. You will understand once it is over with why that is.” **No one** would take the Joining if they knew what it did to them. “Alistair will accompany all of you to make sure that you gather the correct amount of blood. There has also been word of an old Grey Warden base in the Wilds that I want all of you to take a look at.” _The treaties_ , Hissera sat up straighter at the reminder. “Last heard, it was the final place the Grey Warden treaties had been taken to before they went missing. I need all of you to search for them and reclaim them if possible.”

“Are we expected to wade into the middle of a forest with darkspawn completely surrounding us? Is this the sort of task you expect us to undertake?” Jory moved to stand; he was lucky Daveth had caught him and responded before she could have.

“Think about it, Ser Knight; this is the sort of thing we will have to get used to doing as Grey Wardens. At least now we have someone with some experience going with us.”

“Several someones,” Hissera mentioned, turning curious eyes towards Duran – who, until that moment, had been staring into the fire with a frown on his face. He lifted his gaze and met hers before nodding and turning away.

_Quiet dwarf..._

Duncan drew everyone's attention back to himself. “You will all stay here tonight – since you are not yet full Wardens – and I will wake you in the morning to see you all off at the gates.” Like a mother sending her kids off to school – the thought came unbidden and Hissera struggled to keep a straight face at the imagery it projected. Duncan would **not** look fetching in a dress and apron – _50's style._

Then the situation registered. Sleeping outside in the open with nothing over her head and on the hard ground...

 _Well..._ this will be a new experience.

Duncan gestured to the bed rolls and thin sheets, telling them to get what they needed and to start settling down. Alistair left, saying he was getting them their last meal – _that was how he put it_ and Hissera tried not to read too much into it – and that he would return shortly.

Era waited until Duncan said he was going to talk with the other Grey Wardens over matters concerning the upcoming battle and left before she wheeled on her and slapped her arm. _Again._ “I should've punched you instead; do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“Need I remind you of just which one of us people were more worried about a week ago?” The answer was Era; she was _always_ the one they were more worried about. Hissera at least _attempted_ to keep out of trouble.

“ _So,_ ” Daveth was sitting Indian-style on top of his bed roll, the thin blanket he swiped from the pile was still folded and set at the top of the roll as if being used as a pillow; which wasn't that bad of an idea, really. “How long have the two of you known each other?” His grin was marginally more at ease than it had been before but Hissera appreciated the attempt at camaraderie.

But it also meant that she had to be the one doing the talking since she needed to solidify the stereotypical background she had designed with Era. No better way to do so than to tell the story in front of Era to others – thankfully _without_ Alistair around to overhear. It meant they could edit it later if something wasn't working out with it.

Like **Hell** they were going to tell them the truth.

“Since we were kids, I guess you could say,” She had to tread carefully because they really didn't know each other that well. They had only really known each other for roughly a year... “We met by pure accident, to be honest, and didn't really start to get to know one another until much later.” It was an automatic add-on, one she hated herself for doing, but she couldn't take it back. She could see the curiosity in Daveth's eyes but refused to be the one to just start talking.

They wanted something; they needed to ask.

“You're both Fereldan, then?” It seemed Daveth was the one that was going to be asking all the questions as opposed to Duran, who – though has moved since Duncan and Alistair left – had only shifted enough to retrieve a bedroll and blanket; both sitting in a neat pile beside him. He did pay attention to the questions asked and answers given.

Hissera was going to have to be _**extremely**_ careful with what she said.

“Not exactly,” She shared a glance with Era and found her slight nod encouraging. She was alright with it, so far. “Era was Dalish, once,” She began. “And I'm technically from the Free Marches.”

“What do you mean _'once'_?”

“She is no longer,” She shrugged in response. “She wasn't when I met her, anyway.” She'd leave those details to Era, if she wanted. “And we didn't meet in Fereldan – we met in Orlais.”

“So,” Daveth began, turning his head towards Era. “You're Orlesian?”

“ _Dalish_ ; not Orlesian,” Era turned her head and sniffed delicately. “And I wasn't born on Orlesian soil. At the time, I think my clan had been moving over the Frostback Mountains.” Which definitely made her Fereldan and not Orlesian and put her on everyone's good side. _Unless_ they were Orlesian, but that was a thought for another time.

Daveth nodded, as did Duran, and accepted the answer for what it was.

 **Telanadas.** It was the name of the clan she came from – _or so she would say._ It meant _'nothing is inevitable'_ and would lead to a lot of curious looks from those that understood the elven language. Hissera would need to talk with Era about it all as soon as they had a chance to be alone...

They had _so much_ shit to plan for and to redefine their pasts.

_Joy of joys..._

“And you said you were from the Free Marches?” Daveth turned back towards Hissera then and she was scrambling her brain for as much Marcher information as it had. **Fuck nuggets!**

She nodded then, hoping no one had noticed the _'oh shit'_ that she felt. “Hercinia,” The response was more of a _'it-was-the-last-one-she-had-thought-of'_ instead of it being the one she decided on; it was known for taxes and raider activity. _Raider activity_ , she remembered, could also link itself to Tal-Vashoth fleeing Seheron or Par Vollen or anywhere north, really. Even _Vashoth_ could be raiders or pirates. It was one of the safer choices to give. “I think,” Better to give herself a way out just in case. “I was very young and we were all constantly on the move,” It wasn't a **complete** lie – she did move around a lot as a kid. “We somehow found ourselves in Orlais years ago and that was when I met Era.”

 _Yeah..._ that's exactly what happened.

Era pat her arm, reminding her of their need to talk, before Hissera quickly turned the conversation away from them and towards Jory and Daveth instead. “You and Ser Jory,” She nodded to the knight, “The two of you have been in Ostagar long?”

And off Daveth went, talking about how he was recruited, where, what he had done and why he thought he was recruited. Hissera didn't mention what she thought – that he was recruited because Duncan saw a bit of himself in the thief – but nodded along and hummed in interest whenever he paused. Jory got the same treatment.

Hissera reached for her pack, had nearly forgotten about it since her time with Tomas and Lillian, and _almost_ pulled out her notebook and a pencil... before she stopped herself. Were her notebooks even going to blend in?

Wait... _Would it even matter?_

“Dinner,” Alistair's voice broke through her thoughts and she reached for the food and tucked away her things. They could come later. He took his seat from before, between Era and Hissera, and dug into his own bread roll and stew. She wanted to question what kind of stew it was but... so long as it wasn't _**cat**_ – she swore that if it was she would join the Venatori – she was alright.

**Hopefully.**

Food was quietly eaten, the weight of what they would soon be doing heavy now that Alistair had returned and reminded them of such. Hissera took that time to lean towards Alistair so that she could catch Era's eye. She felt him tense just before Era met her gaze.

“Girl talk!” Era hopped to her feet and stood, hands on her hips; staring right at Hissera and her half-empty bowl of stew. It tasted like beef stew but, really, it could have been anything. Heaving a sigh, Hissera set her bowl where she was sitting once she stood – _**with** her pack_ – and asked Alistair to watch it for her.

Era didn't even let her get out of earshot of the camp area before tearing into her. “What the fuck was _that_?”

Shushing her quickly, Hissera pulled her further away and ducked down into a crouch to keep her voice down but loud enough for Era to hear her. “You asked for a stereotypical story so I gave us a stereotypical story.” Hissera huffed at her and dragged her notebook out of her pack again to scribble on it. “I kind of blabbed to Cailan and Loghain some of it too so we'll just have to expand on what's already been said.”

“I told Alistair my clan was dead,” Era shifted her stance some when she said it. “That Orlesians took offense to something or another that had happened and had killed them; that I was the only survivor and it was only because I had been hiding.” Hissera was nodding along to what she said and drew a line straight down the middle of one page and then the one behind it. She was going to write the same thing on both of them.

“I can work with that,” Hissera told her, “I told Cailan and Loghain that I was from the Free Marches. My parents had been mercenaries and were hired by some Orlesian to kill a dragon – that there were more dragons than planned and they were killed. Along with the band they were with.”

“Leaving you in Orlais.”

“Exactly,” Hissera still had her head ducked down and struggled to keep her frantic writing legible. Her normally neat and tidy handwriting only got sloppy when she was stressing. **Like now.** “I told them you were orphaned around the same time and we met whenever someone tried to force themselves on you. That me being a Vashoth – _a Qunari_ ,” Her eyes rolled at the word. “Scared off the guys more than anything else.” It was about as believable as anything else going on during a Blight. “I said that we made our way from racist rude-ass Orlais to tolerant laid-back Fereldan by following merchants heading this way – that we weren't really sure _what_ kind of merchants they were because we kept our distance.”

Era was nodding along with what she was saying as she was saying it. “I like it so far; more believable than what I could have come up with.”

“Good thing we had already decided on stereotypical background... otherwise I would have been a runaway from Tevinter with a great love for broody elves.” They laughed then, both knowing exactly who she was talking about.

And she wasn't lying about it, either.

“Here,” She held out one of the sheets of paper, folded in fourths, so that she could look it over and not be as obvious about it. “That's your page; the same thing is on mine.” Hissera gestured to her own once Era took hers. “And we'll just have to keep ourselves up to date on what we say about our pasts to other people.”

“For consistency,” Era was smirking when she said it and Hissera was glad to not have to explain it.

“Consistency is key,”

“I thought location was key?”

“No, location is _important_ – _consistency_ is key. And sometimes antique is modern, but who really pays attention to such shit?”

~~~

The night was long. It was cold and uncomfortable and Hissera didn't think she slept for more than an hour – and that was only out of pure exhaustion. Lying flat on her back wasn't as comfortable as she had hoped; she felt the tips of her horns scraping against the ground as she settled and she could feel some of the rocks through the bedroll. It was **Hell**.

Jory was a snorer; Daveth was eerily silent; Era was shifting every now and again. Alistair was the one she thought was the strangest. He was just so damn _still_. Hissera had sat up and peered over at him a few times just to make sure he was still breathing because of how strange it was. She always took him for a snorer – though not as bad as **Jory** was – and someone who would move around a lot in their sleep. He was neither and she had trouble reminding herself he was there when she couldn't hear him, or see him from where she was. Duran was directly beside her, as he chose to be, and shifted a few times in the night and let out a sigh every now and again.

Quiet but noticeable.

“ _Urtok_ ,” It was the nudge to her side more so than the word that had her opening her eyes blearily and looking around. Duran's blue-grey eyes were watching her and she waved him off with a groan, wanting nothing more than her bed and thick blankets and _at least_ twelve hours of sleep. And a whole bottle of Advil for her aching back... “Get up; we leave once Duncan arrives.”

Hissera groaned again, bending her spine and moving onto her side to curl into a ball. “What? He leave you in charge?”

She could only hope that he did. She didn't want to lead any more than Alistair did.

“Not exactly,” He smirked when he said it and offered her a hand. She stared at it for a second – wondering _**how** the blue fuck_ he planned on helping her up when she was three-times taller than he was – before humoring the both of them and letting him take her hand. Then he surprised them both by getting her both off the ground and halfway up on his own. She stood the rest of the way while he mumbled, “You need to eat more.”

“I'm glad we're both in agreement,” Hissera dusted off the butt of her pants and looked around the camp they had been in to find Jory the only one still asleep and Era sleepily rubbing her eyes from her own place sitting Indian-style on top of her own bedroll. “You alive over there?” She had directed the question towards Era.

A low, groggy, hum was the only thing to answer her and Hissera started to laugh... before she yawned instead. Duran at her side, Hissera tugged at her braid – **hating** that she even had the thing – in a half-assed attempt at straightening her hair before rubbing what little sleep had accumulated around her eyes. It was only once she cleared her eyes and shook her head that she noticed the look Duran was giving her. “Did you sleep any?”

“I _think_ I did, if it makes any difference,” Hissera rolled her shoulders, then her neck. “Why?”

“Sit,” He nodded to her bedroll, seeming to ignore the fact that he had _literally_ just pulled her from the spot.

“Why?”

“Just sit, _urtok_ ,” It was going to bug her – not knowing what he was calling her. _It was too early for this shit._ She huffed but flopped lazily right back on the ground, wincing at the way she landed on her tailbone before shifting just enough to ease the pain. Then she felt hands in her hair.

“What are you...?”

“You resemble that creature humans are always going on about: a _banshee_.” He was tugging at her head and she felt strands being pulled from her scalp in his movements. Her face scrunched up at the sharp tugs and she tried not to complain. It wasn't like she could fix her hair herself without a mirror... and a brush. “Wild hair that sticks in every which direction.”

She didn't know that the story of banshees even _existed_ in Thedas...

His hands were calloused and rough in her hair and against her scalp but she said nothing as he undid her braid and brushed his fingers through the locks and tugging the knots binding the strands. It hurt – she was **very** tender-headed – but she weathered the tugs until everything was straight and smooth and his finger were able to glide through without problem.

“There was a woman in Orzammar I had known for many years,” Duran started unexpectedly. “Her name was Quinn and she had hair similar to your own.” He hummed lowly for a moment, his fingers dexterous as they began to spin her hair back into a braid again. “Hers had more waves in it and wasn't the color of blood that yours is; but it was just as long and just as unruly in the mornings.” She had started to think he was going to bring up Mardy or Teli – the only ones she knew of from the Origins beginnings – but she didn't know who this Quinn was.

Another thing different from the game?

“Did you braid her hair, too? Or am I just special?” Hissera wanted to keep him talking – it was like she was going through dialogue options in-game in real life. It was almost weird... then again, everything that had happened was considered weird.

Duran was quiet for a while and only began to answer once her braid felt halfway done. “She always braided her hair the night before a celebration – or even before any important gathering.” He sounded... _nostalgic_ , if the emotion had a sound that went along with it. As if he was reliving a fond memory of a day long since past. “She told me once, when we were children, that appearances were everything. That no one would listen to her, or even respect her, if she looked like any other duster.”

“Understandable,” Hissera had never heard of this tale – she certainly would have remembered it if it had happened in the game – and she was thoroughly entranced. The world continued to go on; Daveth, at some point, showed up with a hard rolls of bread and strips of dried meat – that he passed out to them all – and Era was straightening out her own mess of hair. Hissera wasn't sure how – having **always** had short hair – but she applauded the fact she didn't need to see what she was doing.

“Look the part of crazed _urtok_ and that's how others will treat you,” Duran tied off her hair with a few short tugs and then smoothed one hand down the length of it. “Be might; _look_ mighty; show the world that you are magnificent and they will be forced to see you no other way.”

“One Hell of a pep talk,” Hissera let slip before she could stop it. Both her breakfast and Duran's were being held in her hands and she passed him his once his hands were free.

“Indeed.”

Breakfast was quiet, though not silent. Era was asking Alistair about Grey warden matters, whose voice carried over to the rest of them easily enough, and they were all content to let her question and him answer without adding in their own tidbits. Jory was wide awake but content to let silence reign on his end; Daveth was bleary-eyed and obviously not a morning person as he slowly nibbled on his roll and chewed at the jerky.

Duran settled at her side, just a ways away, and let words flow over him as memories seemed to drown him where he sat. Of a dwarf-woman named Quinn and a childhood that, she was certain, seemed a lifetime ago.

She hated thinking about what was going on with other people but... there was something about Thedas that brought it out of her.

Or maybe it was her _inner Flemeth_ talking.

“... and that was the last time anyone had ever seen a griffon,” Alistair talked with his hands; moving them this way and that, and Hissera couldn't help but smile as she watched him.

He was so _damn adorable_ it was **gut-wrenching**.


	10. Into The Woods! ... With Less Music And More Death & Dealing With It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I finally got through the Writer's Block!
> 
> Thank you all who kept reading, even though it said it had been a minute since the last update!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“I see everyone is awake,” Duncan managed to sneak up on them all and spoke from directly behind Jory – causing all of them to jump. Daveth and Duran had even started to draw their weapons before they registered just who it was that had snuck up on them.

Hissera took note of Alistair being the only one that didn't seem surprised. “Bright eyed and bushy tailed, as it were,” She responded while Daveth mumbled curses under his breath. She was _sure_ Duncan had heard everything he said though, close as he was to the thief.

“Let us proceed then,” Duncan led the way, directing them all straight to the looming doors that would lead them out of Ostagar and into the Kocari Wilds. Soldiers and servants and mages all turned to look at them when they walked past – the _mix-matched group_ that they were – and Hissera struggled to keep her head down and keep her attention from moving over to those that were watching them. Cailan's orders or not, she knew that not everyone would be so kind as to look past her appearance and newly-found race and to see her for just another being.

The murmuring is what caused her to lift her eyes and look around; the group of soldiers nearby that caught her eye and nearly _snarled_ in her direction answered her thoughts on what they all thought of her. She had been lucky to have run into Carver and Wynne – they cared even less for race than _she_ did, at times – but the rest of the army...

They were a little slower on accepting her than she had hoped.

They passed the Ash Warriors – or the group she _thought_ were the Ash Warriors – and a few runners – she took note of the lack of armor and the pointed ears – and finally came to a stop at the large wooden gates that would lead them directly to the Kocari Wilds. And right back into the thick of things...

Hissera couldn't navigate for **shit** – she was _so screwed_...

“Take these,” Duncan held out a bundle full of empty flasks – _vials_ – that was certainly more than two a piece. It looked like all of them were going to be taking plenty. Hissera took five. “Remember, each of you are to fill two of these with darkspawn blood. I have you taking extra in case anything should happen.” A man that planned for _just-in-case_ situations... _after her own heart_.

“We won't let you down Duncan,” Alistair replied while Hissera carefully wedged the empty glass vials in between her spare clothes in her pack – _which she was taking!_ – and returned it to its previous position on her back. She could feel the lump against her spine but was thankful it was uncomfortable.

Duncan looked at all of them, his eyes seeming to settle on Alistair far longer than the rest of them. “I expect all of you to be at this gate come morning,” They were sleeping _**outside**_ of Ostagar tonight?! “And to be prepared to become full-fledged Grey Wardens.”

_What was even up with this damn time-line?!_

Short farewell accomplished, Duncan waved for one of the guards to open the gate... and Alistair led them right back into the Wilds that it felt like they had just left. Hissera felt sweat build up in her palms at the reminder of just what had happened last time they had been in the Wilds. She hadn't thought on it before – had pushed the memory of it all out of her mind – but... she had killed something getting to Ostagar; a _lot_ of somethings.

She hadn't even been **hunting** before – why did she think she could do this? What made her think that being a Warden was a _good idea_?!

“Breathe, _urtok_ ,”

“You know I have no idea what you're calling me, right?” Hissera gave him a droll look, lips twitching at one side, and swung one hand back to touch the handle of the battleaxe on her back. It helped keep her in the present, helped _ground_ her, and she was not sure how to feel about that. The most dangerous thing she ever kept around her at home had been a metal bat or a pair of gardening clippers...

She wasn't ready for this.

She didn't think she could handle this.

“Stop thinking,”

“I'm about to break my foot off in your ass if you tell me what to do one more time,” The response was automatic – she had come from a **big** family and **lots** of siblings and did **not** like being bossed around – but she still felt her own hand slapping over her mouth afterwards. Her wide-eyed look towards him next must have been funnier than her words had been because he was chuckling low in his throat.

He flapped his hand between them. “Don't worry about me. Worry about you.” His amusement melted away then as he just watched her, walking at his side, towering over him. “Focus on now and not later; don't think about the Joining.”

She made a huffing noise even as her heart stuttered in her chest. “What makes you think it's the Joining that has me tied in knots?” It wasn't then but her mind went to play out the scene in her mind – the cut-scene from the game – and found a shiver running down her spine and goosebumps rising on her skin. It wasn't something she was looking forward to now that he reminded her about it. “And, _speaking of_ , what makes you so chatty now? You were awfully quiet when we first met.”

His shoulders rose and fell shortly, something she would have missed if she hadn't been looking directly at him. “We'll be around each other a lot more now that we'll both be going through the Joining. May as well get to know you now, before our deaths, than try to do so after.”

“I doubt talking to a corpse will do either of us any good.”

He chuckled at her again and reached out to pat her thigh again – she had a feeling it was going to turn into a **regular thing**. “Focus on now.” He reminded... and then she was forced to take in the forest around her and realize that they had all stopped, her and Duran being in the back of the group.

The growling is what drew her attention far more than the drawn weapons. It was like a memory out of the Fade – the way the wolf before her resembled the one the spirits had summoned before. All sharp teeth and snarling. The trees were spread out far enough that she could see more coming closer... and it nearly had her shaking.

She was seriously _**not**_ a canine person...

The first bark – for lack of a better word for the snarling/barking sound – had her pulling the battleaxe off her back and holding it in both hands. It felt heavier in her hands than it ever had on her back... her heart was pounding and her blood was chilled; her vision was beginning to blur around the edges and the noise around her was fading; her hands shook and the grip she had on Dal'Thanaan shook with it. Duran brushing against her side eased some of the nerves that were going haywire.

Just not _all_ of them.

Her body seemed to move on autopilot then. She felt so disconnected from it all. She recalled moving back, moving so that any of her swings would miss the others, and watching as two wolves separated from the pack before them and advanced on her. She remembered having panic lance through her at the sight of _teeth_ and _large paws_ and _snarling faces_ and...

Duran was there. Defending her. _She wasn't alone_ – she reminded herself firmly, her grip redoubling and tightening. _She wasn't fighting alone._

She had Duran beside her.

She swung down with her weight behind her once Duran moved to swipe at the second wolf, feeling the bone cave underneath the blade as it met its mark on the head of the wolf. Something inside her screamed at the action – _It was just a wild animal in its natural habitat! There was no reason to kill it!_ – but she shoved the voice back, focused on the then and there. Focused on getting her blade back and swinging it at the next wolf; focused on staying alive and uninjured and helping Duran stay alive and uninjured.

And she would cry later...

There was no heavenly black-out that time. No red-tinted haze that went over her gaze. There was no memory problem or sudden fainting. She felt her eyes welling with tears and stubbornly blinked them away as she swung again – another impact, this time with a wolf's hind leg – and turned to jab the handle next – knocking back one injured wolf that she noted Alistair quickly took care of with a single swing of his sword. She could feel the headache coming on, the one she always associated with tears, and could only hate herself for it.

She hated crying, even if she didn't hate the reason behind the tears.

The axe shook in her hands still once the wolves were all dead and lying around them; she could hear Daveth and Jory talking to Alistair about waiting a moment so that Daveth could skin them for their pelts. And she couldn't handle it.

She was... she just...

Duran's hand on her thigh was what broke her. One hand managed to hold onto Dal'Thanaan but the other clamped over her mouth to muffle the sobs that were wanting to make themselves known. The wolves had died by her hand, there was no denying that, even if she wasn't alone in the slaughter, but there had been no point to it all. “You're too good for this life, _urtok_ ,” Duran's voice was barely heard but Hissera was already crouching down and pressing her face into her knees as she sat on her ankles. Her knee caps dug into her eyes, her face pressed hard enough into them that she saw nothing but darkness and bursts of white in her vision, and she felt the heavy pressure of Duran's hand on her back – behind one of her shoulders.

She had to get through this. She couldn't cry here. Not now. Later.

She had to wait. Had to suck it up – bottle it up.

She had to get through this first before she could break down.

“Breathe,”

“I'm fine,” She ignored the fact that she didn't even _sound_ fine and sucked in one more breath before standing up again. Looking up, she swiped one hand around and under her eyes, pushing away whatever wetness that was found there. “I just... don't like killing animals. Darkspawn I can get, I can work with that,” She thought she could anyway. “But wolves?” The silence between them was appreciated and once Hissera heard a wet ripping sound, she was moving away. As far away as she could get within the area they had found themselves in without disappearing from the others' view.

“Hey,” It was Era and Hissera honestly wished she hadn't caught her just then. “You alright?”

“I never went hunting back home,” She admitted instead, couldn't remember if she had ever told her that before. “I didn't like the thought of killing something just because it was alive and _there_. There was no real point to it for me. I could understand others doing it – people needed to eat after all and some just liked the sport of it all – but me, personally? I was never too keen of the idea myself.”

“First time?”

“Oh yeah,” Hissera's smile was strained and tense but it came unbidden and was about as genuine as could be. “Just processing what all just happened. Give me a minute and I'll be –” She cut herself off, turning and clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the retching noise that had nearly made itself known. Her gagging was only barely contained as the skinning sounds from earlier hit her ears once more – and this time it sounded like someone was helping.

Era made a noise of alarm and Hissera could feel her hands fluttering all around her – from what she could reach – before they settled on her elbows, curling around them as much as she could before jerking – as if to get her attention. “Cover your ears! Just... um... bend down! I'll cover them! You just – uh – keep doing what you're doing!” Hissera was already sinking down to sit on her ankles again – as much as they ached at the weight that shifted to press against them – and closed her eyes when she felt Era's gloved hands jerking against her skin; nearly missing their targets before pushing against her ears as if her whole hand was going to be enough.

Thankfully, it muffled a majority of it.

She breathed through her nose, long and deep, and counted to twenty twice in her head – because counting to forty just seemed like _too much_ to her shaken mind – and swallowed a few times more. Calming... but not enough. She doubted it would be. Wrapping her own hands around Era's wrists – which they encircled completely... and then some – and pressed them against her head further, Dal'Thanaan was leaning against one of her thighs – the handle warm where she had been gripping it but cold everywhere else.

Fereldan was cool this time of year it seemed... or maybe this was normal Fereldan weather.

She needed anything to distract her just then, even Era's voice muffled through their contact. Hissera wasn't going to open her eyes, to check and see if she was even talking to her; she just focused on the present. On the here and now. On calming down and getting herself under control. On not vomiting all over her boots and crying for the next hour.

What the **blue fuck** was she thinking? What made her think she could do this?

One of her hands was pulled away, her grip on Era following the hand that was pulled off one side of her face, and Duran's voice filtered through her breathing and thoughts. “Still with us?”

“I think so...” Nothing concrete, nothing definite, but she was definitely still alive – and still with them.

For however long that was.

“Daveth just finished with the wolves, Jory and Alistair pitched in once I pressed them both for time, so we'll be moving again shortly.” Someone bless this dwarf, Hissera's half-mad mind thought, thankful that she would be away from it all soon. The smell of blood was growing and mixing in with the smell of wet dog and she was fighting back her gagging once more. Another ripping sound cut through the air and Duran's palm was the one to cover her ear then, if only for a moment. “Deep breaths, _urtok_ ; deep breaths.” She wondered briefly how he was so good at talking someone through a situation like this then dismissed the thought. She didn't want to know right then.

“You know,” She started when he didn't cover her ear again. She released Era completely and cradled her face in her hands instead, muffling her voice but not caring enough to move. “One day you're going to have to tell me what that means.”

“Not today,”

“But not today,” She sighed at the words, at the pure amusement she could hear in Duran's answer, and steeled herself before lifting her head. Era was still in front of her, eyes flickering between both of hers, and Duran was just to her side, his own gaze steady whenever it met hers. Era was moving too much for her to focus on very well just then. “Thanks.” It was to both of them and she stood after she spoke it. Era's smile was quick, there and gone again, while Duran's was a steady smirk, already over the event and ready to go on with the next.

She was glad he was recovering from his own trauma so well...

Then again, he said it himself. Focus on the there and then, on the now, and worry about the rest later.

She could only hope it wasn't bad advise they were both following.

Swinging Dal'Thanaan back into her grip, she made a face at the blood that stained the blade – quickly telling herself the blood wasn't real to keep from having another minor break. There was a spare rag in her pack, she knew, though she had meant to use it for wounds and sweat...

Duran was the one to hold out a tattered rag to her, purposely glancing at the blade when she took it before he wandered back over to where Alistair, Daveth, and Jory were, leaving Era and Hissera alone again.

“Nice guy,” Era broke the strangeness around them, shifting in place as she watched Hissera run the cloth over Dal'Thanaan – handle and blade both, though the handle came first. Wood would be harder to clean in her mind than metal.

“Almost couldn't have asked for a better Hero,” And she meant that. From what she had seen so far, she really liked this Aeducan. And she normally never played as a dwarf. Being tall, she was never really able to _truly_ connect with the shorter race.

Now was her chance, she supposed.

“I still would have liked a Mahariel,” Era snickered at the admission.

Hissera did too, rubbing the cloth in a circle along one particularly strange spot that seemed to have dried just enough to be troublesome. “And I would have liked a Surana or even an Amell, but well,” She shrugged her shoulders. “That's the way the cookie crumbles, I guess.”

“ _Bruce Almighty_ quotes? _Really?_ ”

“May as well,” Her eyes were on the battleaxe and she barely spared Era a glance as she tucked the dirtied cloth in one of the straps holding her scale armor in place at the side, slipping the weapon into its holster on her back before tying the cloth into place; not wanting to lose it... but not wanting to put it in her pack and get blood smears on her clean clothes and things.

It was about the same time she remembered what all she had in her pack – her notebook and pencils, clean spare clothes, her empty flasks – that Duran called for her. “You good?”

“Yeah, I'm good,” She looked over the others, found their gloves red-stained and dirty, and looked away. Nope. She wasn't going to think about. _No. No. No. No._ Move past it, around it, and over it.

**_Just get over it._ **

“Alright,” Alistair nodded over at her – and Era once she moved to stand beside her. “Daveth, will you be alright with those pelts?”

“I'll make it,” The thief was shrugging his pack back onto his shoulders as he replied. “Ser Knight took a few to put in his so we should be able to manage.”


	11. Kicking Ass & Saving Lives... & All Out Of Ass To Kick

“Let's continue on then,” Alistair led the group, something that made Hissera half question her game knowledge – _Wasn't the Warden-Recruit always in the lead in the game to the point that **other characters** would even mention it?_ – but she decided not to ask. It just didn't sound right to do so. Beside Alistair was Era, who had moved there once the group began moving again, and behind them were Jory and Daveth, leaving Hissera and Duran picking up the rear once more.

It seemed... almost natural, but she was sure it was orchestrated that way. _Somehow._ Like a dwarf being in the lead would've impeded things... _**Somehow.**_ Strategies and tactics made her head hurt – especially right then.

_Damn did she need an Advil._

A call for them all to stop before Alistair was rushing forward sent Hissera's heart stammering. Another pack of wolves? She was barely functioning – _mentally_ – after the last ones! Then Era and Daveth were hot on his heels through the bushes and Hissera remembered the game, even though the memories _were_ a little fuzzy and she was suddenly pining for a quiet **solitary** place to write out her recollection of anything Dragon Age related into her notebook...

She remembered the dying soldier.

“Help... Help me...”

“Quiet, my good man, we're here to help,” Alistair was the one soothing the soldier once Hissera finally made it to the rest of the group – ignoring the call to stop where she was just as everyone else did. And the man looked like _Hell_.

“Hush, stop moving,” While Alistair was knelt down at the soldier's side, Era was knelt down with him... although her hands were flapping rather uselessly around the poor guy. Not that Hissera would have been any different in her shoes, she was sure. Duran's hand on her thigh had her glancing down at the solemn faced dwarf before kneeling down on Alistair's other side. Jory and Daveth were pacing restlessly around them – Jory more so than Daveth, more heatedly too.

“They were everywhere,” the soldier was mumbling the words, his voice just barely above a roughened whisper and Alistair pressed a hand to his shoulder to keep him from moving around too much. Hissera was furious with herself just then – she hadn't thought to bring her damn _First Aid kit_ into a _**war zone**_! _How stupid was she?!_ “They had us surrounded... and then... they...”

“Did you hear that?” Jory began fretting – _because that was the best word she had for what he was doing_ – and Hissera was torn between shutting him up and helping the soldier; what all aid she _could_ give with her clawed hands and inexperienced fingers. “A whole scouting party _torn to pieces!_ And they expect us to go up against those monsters?!”

“What did you think being a Grey Warden meant?” Daveth bit back in return, his frown deepening as Jory's movements grew more and more erratic. “It wasn't going to be all sunshine and daisies.”

Alistair lifted his head then, his expression serious and his amusement and easygoing nature gone. “Once you become a Grey Warden,” he began, “I can't explain it, not just yet anyway, but you'll be able to sense any nearby darkspawn. The scouting party he was with didn't have any warning until it was too late.”

The dying soldier – the wounded solider, Hissera firmly corrected herself – was still muttering to himself about darkspawn and death. “You see, Ser Knight,” Daveth's sarcastic grin was a sight for sore eyes. “We may be killed by darkspawn... but at least we'll be warned about it first!”

“And that is... comforting?” Hissera couldn't believe how similar their conversation was to the one in game...

“It should be,” Duran spoke up. “In Orzammar, being forewarned is sometimes all a warrior needed to be able to turn the blade in battle.” _Wasn't that the truth..._

“Alistair,” Hissera couldn't stand to watch the man bleed anymore. “ _Please_ tell me you have some bandages.”

Era moved back so that Hissera could shuffle closer, ignoring – _or attempting to ignore_ – the way the soldier tensed and sobbed and started to curl in on himself when she did. “Ah, yes, I have some in my pack.” She knew that already – she remembered him saying the same thing in the back of her head from the game – but she still took them from his hands when he held them out and looked over the soldier; looking for the more serious wounds to tend to.

Not that she had much of any sort of training in healing or even in doctoring... she just picked up little things here and there from glossing over first aid booklets, talking with the occasional EMT that would wander into her store, and from, of course, common sense. There was also the added help from having looked up things whenever she wrote.

And all of it meant _**absolutely nothing**_ once she saw the gut wound – a hilt still sticking out of it – and she felt her own abdomen clenching at the very sight of it. Logically, she knew it needed stitches and antibiotics and clean water and clean towels and clean hands and...

“I'll help, _urtok_ ,” Duran started forward.

“Me too, just tell me what I can do,” Era joined him next, hovering at Hissera's shoulder.

_I can do this_ , she thought to herself – even as the fear coursed through her at having even thought of stitches. _**Needles...**_ she shuddered at the thought.

“Alright,” Hissera said the word more to herself than any of the others. “Um...” She knew **jack shit** about antibiotics in Thedas... elfroot! Elfroot was used... right? Maybe... a paste? No. _What was it..._ She had to remember! “Duran... could you, um, help Era find some elfroot?” That had to be it; elfroot had to be able to help somehow. Dragon Age nerdness had not let her down yet.

“I'll go,” Alistair volunteered instead. “You stay with her in case anything else comes up.”

“Daveth, do you have any water?” Hissera turned her head enough to glance over at the thief before flickering her eyes over to Jory. “Or even you, Jory? This guy's probably hankering for a drink.” Jory shifted in place, his eyes glancing between them all even though his mouth was in a firm line, while Daveth busied himself with digging through his pack.

“Stay... stay back,”

“Be still,” Hissera urged him. “Duran, can you help me move him... I need to see his stomach.” Not that she had any idea of whether or not it was a good idea to roll him but she was extremely limited in her knowledge... and in what all she was even capable of doing. There was no calling 911 out in Thedas... and she had no idea if he would make it if they dragged him back to Ostagar with the shape he was in.

She had to do something right then to give him a fighting chance... even when she was near clueless on what to do.

Between the two of them, they got the man rolled onto his side – although he still struggled the whole time, as weak as his protests were. The wound was deep, if she was to guess, and the blood was still trickling out of it at a steady pace. Not gushing, she was thankful to see, and not dried either – she could only guess that it would make cleaning it up better.

“Do you have any idea what you're doing?” Duran whispered, his wide palms steady on the man's shoulder and hip as Hissera bent lower to have a better view of the wound... and the hilt still sticking out of it.

“Not much,” she admitted in the same quiet voice. “But it's better than nothing.”

“Water,” Daveth held out the waterskin – because _of course_ it was a waterskin – and she watched Duran take it and lead it towards the soldier's mouth. He swallowed sloppily – not that she blamed him – and got more water on him than in him.

She took a breath, it was now or never. “Jory, Daveth; come here.”

“What? What for?”

“I need you to help Duran hold him, I need to get this blade out of his gut, and Daveth,” She shifted her crouched position and gestured with her head instead of her hands. “I need you to quickly cover his wound once I do; he's lost enough blood, we don't need him losing even more.” Daveth was pressed against her side then, heat pressing into her from the proximity, and his pack left behind. She took a breath through her nose and held it for a moment before slowly releasing it through her mouth. She can do this.

_She can do this._

The hilt was small and felt a little thin in her hand once she wrapped her fingers around it, it was also cold – she could feel the temperature difference through her gloves. “On the count of three,” Hopefully he didn't know this trick... “One...” She watched soldier shift, one of his hands wrapping around Jory's wrist at his shoulder, as the other braced himself against the ground. “Two...” She pulled – well before three, well before any of them were really ready – and tossed the broken blade – she could see in his wound... she could feel her own stomach clenching and unclenching and felt herself growing stiff – behind them. Daveth jerked forward, his movements much faster than her own, and covered the hole with a folded square of cloth.

He screamed. He didn't let out a yell or a sob or anything she was bracing herself for – he _screamed_. Shaking under everyone's hands, the soldier began muttering again; his grip on Jory's wrist white-knuckled and she could see the knight tugging some at the grip.

“Breathe,” Hissera found herself speaking, even as she was forcing down her own panic and trembling. “I need you to breathe for me; deep breaths. In through your nose and out through you mouth – deep breaths,” She kept coaching him, nearly begging him, until he did as he was asked. Duran took over the mantra as Hissera pressed her hand over the cloth instead of Daveth.

_The heat coming from it..._

“Are these the only bandages we have?”

“I think Alistair was taking out more before he left,” Daveth answered, standing up so that Hissera had more room to hover over the soldier. She sighed, she couldn't help it, and looked around quickly. Still no sign of Alistair and Era.

If she was trying to bang the Cheese King in the middle of the forest when she was supposed to be looking for elfroot...

“Alright,” She nodded at Duran. “Let's roll him onto his back; carefully.” Between the two of them, and with the soldier oddly silent and only whimpering once the movement was done, they managed to roll him. “I hope those two show up soon; this won't hold up for long.” She was referring to the soaked bandage that she lifted a little to be able to look at the wound once more. It looked bad – it had dirt around it and in it and she was beginning to worry about how long he had been dragging himself through the dirt with his insides nearly dragging against the forest floor.

Jory started to whisper to the soldier – the only thing that kept him in her good graces, as far as she was concerned – and they could all only wait for the others to return. Hissera hummed some as she periodically checked the wound – the bleeding was slowing since she kept putting pressure on it – but it didn't look like it was going to be stopping any time soon. Duran and Daveth, not really having any tasks to do, or being held to the soldier as Jory was, were left pacing around and waiting.

It was nerve-wracking.

“We're back!” Era was the one to rush through the shrubbery with, what looked like, weeds in her clenched fists. “I... I didn't know how many you needed or what they looked like or what part to pull or –” She cut herself off as she quickened her pace, crouching at Hissera's side and leaning into her as she released her grip on the herbs so they fell to the ground in front of them. “Here. I don't know what all –”

“The bandages!” Alistair had one hand in his pack once he came into view, the bandages following once he strode to where they were. “I had nearly forgotten about the rest of them being in here,” He held out a neat little stack that Hissera took in her free hand – the other quickly becoming blood-stained and still pressing against the soldier's wound.

“Era, wet one of the bandages for me, will you?” Hissera instructed, noting that the others were leaving the situation up to her. She didn't like that... but she forced herself to issue out tasks. They needed to be kept busy – **she** needed to be kept busy – and they had to keep themselves occupied. She had to move.

_She could do this... she could help him._

“Alistair, carefully take the leaves off all the elfroot – um, Daveth, would you mind helping him? Duran, could you hold the bandages for Alistair? Jory? Just – uh – keep doing what you're doing. Keep him distracted and focused on you.” She moved the bandage she had been holding and winced once she looked at the wound fully once more. She took the wet cloth from Era and asked for her to be ready in case she needed anything else for her to do – especially since she had the smallest fingers of the group.

Hissera almost had the biggest...

She tore the edges of the man's armor around the wound – thankful that most of the chainmail and leather had either already been ripped or were far enough away from it that she only ended up ripping his undershirt – and wiped the excess blood from around the wound... then asked for Era to see if there was anything _in_ the wound. “Can you see any bits of metal or large chunks of grass or anything?” Era was making a face as she leaned on Hissera's arm to do as asked but she did narrow her eyes at the wound for a moment. “Anything?”

“No... just... small bits of dirt... and, uh,” She swallowed thickly. “I think a blade of grass?”

Finding the blade in question, Hissera held out her hand and asked Era to take her glove off for her. She ignored the wide-eyed look Jory gave her at the sight of her claws and removed the blade – being mindful of touching the soldier's skin. “The elfroot?”

“Done,” Daveth called.

“Cut the stem off and give me a handful of the roots,” Hissera shifted back onto her ankles. “Duran, let Era hold the bandages and hold this wet cloth here,” It was the side the blood was leaking in. She was pulling her other glove off by the time Daveth had pulled out his dagger and done as she asked. Alistair was hovering but she couldn't think of anything else to give him to do.

She remembered a codex in game – _Inquisition if she remembered right_ – and it had said something about rubbing the root juice on a wound speeding up healing and numbing pain. She glanced it over every time she played and picked up elfroot right at the beginning. She looked at the roots in her hands and wondered – not for the first time – how the blue fuck she was going to do all of it. How did one _'rub juices'_ on a wound? How did one get the juices out? Did she put them on a cloth and rub around it to numb the edges or did she drip some directly into the wound?

Do now and learn more later?

Using both hands, she handed a few roots off to the side to Alistair, telling him to hold them for her, before she dribbled a little bit of water onto the root – shaking off the excess dirt and water – before twisting the plant with both hands directly over the hole. The soldier jerked and moaned at the action but one sharp glance at Jory had the knight speaking to the man once more. It wasn't a lot of liquid but it did seem to cover the top layer of the wound thinly.

“Cloth,” she called, reaching out a hand towards Alistair for the remainder of the roots. Era laid one square of cloth – thankfully not the whole stack – in her lap and she twisted the rest of the roots onto the cloth there, watching it soak the center slowly.

“How's he doing?” Daveth was the one to ask and he immediately earned brownie points in her mind at just the concern she could hear from him.

“Better... _I think_. I'm no healer but he should be feeling less pain shortly. He'll definitely need to see a healer as soon as he returns to camp.” She took the wet cloth from Duran's grip and carefully replaced it with the new one from her lap, spreading it over the area – thankfully, it covered it completely – and holding her hand over it. She didn't press against it just yet – she just put enough pressure to make sure it wouldn't move.

Alistair busied himself with his pack again. “Here, this should hold it in place.” It was like rolling gauze, she noted, but... _not_. Certainly didn't feel like it. Not that she was looking to note anything touching her hands, as the feeling and sight of blood on them was enough to make her lightheaded.

“Alright everyone, let's stand him up,” Hissera leaned back, stretching out her arm to keep her hand hovering over the covered wound. Alistair and Daveth took up positions on either side of the man – as Duran and Era were too short and Jory was still being held captive – and carefully eased the man up. He went quietly, not making much noise outside of the whimper he made when he apparently noted they were moving him.

Elfroot worked quick, it seemed...

Or he was just that far gone.

Once he was on his feet, being held there by the two Wardens' grip on his arms, Hissera quickly began circling the wrapping cloth around his middle; taking care not to make it overly tight. She didn't want his breathing constricted or for his movement to be hindered.

She finished quickly, tearing the cloth once she was satisfied with the hold she had given him, and stood with the rest in her hands; holding it out for someone else to take. She was so _tired_... even if she didn't think she had managed to do much in the end. She should have just let things continue as if she was clueless to all of it – which she _**was**_ – but... that was only hindsight talking.

She was fairly upset with herself at that particular moment...

“Are you alright now? Can you stand?” Jory was the one asking, tugging at his wrist still in the soldier's grip to get the man's attention. The man nodded slowly, as if his thoughts were slow to wrap around what was said.

“Thank you,” His voice was a low grumble but his eyes were clear when they landed on her. “Thank you, all of you – I need... I need to get back to camp. I need to tell them what happened.” Hissera could only hope no one commented on his terrible patch-up job and he mention it was her that had done so.

She needed to talk with a healer ASAP.

His first step was a stumbling one, something that had all of them jerking forward with their arms outstretched to catch him in case he fell. The soldier kept his footing and stood still for the briefest of moments before – well – soldiering on, one foot right in front of the other. He nearly stumbled a few more times – his foot catching on stray piles of rocks before continuing on. Daveth made to follow him, to make sure he was alright she was to guess, but Alistair held an arm out in front of him – stopping the recruit in his tracks.

“We need to let him go back on his own,” Alistair's voice was one of authority and Hissera was glad for it. She looked down at the blood on her hands and made a face before wiping it off on her leather breeches. Most of it left her hands but she could still see faint red lines of dried blood on her palms; she ignored it all and tugged back on her chainmail gloves – frowning when she noticed how discernible the blood was against the white/purple gloves. “We have our own orders to follow.”

“It's alright, Daveth,” Hissera caught him before he could snap back; she could see that he was about to. “The bandages should get him to Ostagar. He'll be better once he's there. We would only be backtracking instead of doing any good.” Not like they would have been able to carry him the whole way there... even if he had let them carry him in their arms. He had always managed back on his own in the game – at least she had always seen him stumble off in the direction of Ostagar in the cut-scene – but they did indeed have their own job to do.

She was numb to it all over again.

_And they were on the road again..._ The voice of Donkey from Shrek was even singing the song in her head for a while there and Hissera was able to distract herself enough to not notice she had fallen into line once more and had begun walking again; Duran once more at her side.

Was it going to be like that every time they stopped? Would they just go back to what they were doing, just like what happened in game? Play Follow the Leader in a sense?

At least it was someone who knew what they were doing leading... and not, say, her or Era.

Or even Jory... She shuddered at the thought.

“Quite the feat you just pulled, _urtok_ ,” Duran's voice drew her attention and she turned her head over and down to look at him. “Never took you for the healing type.” She made a face at the words, glancing over at Alistair in the lead before returning her focus to Duran. “Saving that knowledge for later?”

“Not really,” She admitted. “Just some things I picked up here and there.” _Wasn't that the truth..._ “Not so much a healer as someone that just... doesn't like death.” It was as close to an accurate description as she could give him, really. “I don't like to watch someone die... so if I can do something, I will; if someone else can do better, I'll let them do it instead. So long as the job gets done, I don't care about the rest.” The words came out and it was only after she said them that she had a moment of _'holy shit did I just say that'_ and firmly shut her mouth. There were some things she really shouldn't be repeating from other games... but she reassured herself with the knowledge that no one there would probably ever come into contact with the Inquisitor and hear him/her say the same thing.

She really needed to lay off the gaming quotes for a while; there was too much of a risk of her running into someone that would recognize what she would say and...

_**What?**_ Guess she had heard the conversation? Heard the words spoken once before?

“We're going to have to get you to learn more,” Duran gestured to the rest of them as he continued. “Obviously, the rest of us don't know much about healing... and you are, by default, the healer of the group thanks to that little display of knowledge.”

“Even though my knowledge could **literally** fill _half a thimble_?” _Please let those exist here; please let those exist here._ She was pretty sure that they did but for all she knew they used something else.

“ _Especially_ because your knowledge could fill half a thimble,” He shrugged one shoulder. “It's more than the rest of us have combined, I'd say.”

“I guess so,” Hissera faced forward once more, trying to keep track of where they were and what was all around them. More trees and rocks and a few overturned logs... “Just don't expect me to bandage you up after every scratch.” She weakly grinned at him, trying to joke, and his huff was appreciated.


	12. What Does It Say? ... And It's Not Cheating If They Don't Believe You.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY got around to updating this stupid - STUPID - story! I have discovered that putting all the quests in this story is going to be a major pain in the ASS. Regardless... Enjoy! ^-^;

Daveth had followed Era over to one of the larger logs, nearby a pretty big puddle, and started to speak with her; Duran strode over to join them once he heard the word _'mabari'_ and Hissera struggled to rein in her laughter at the action. Alistair joined her side in his stead. “So we, uh, haven't gotten much of a chance to speak, really,” Alistair began, leaving the three be for now; their tasks on hold once more. Must have been the Wilds Flower they found. “How are you holding up?”

“I'll live,” She winced after the words registered. “I hope.” He laughed, _damn him_. “Not exactly the savage ox that I'm sure people thought of me as.” She was a little disappointed to hear the laughter stop once the words were said. Disappointed and pretty sad since it had actually been said more as a joke than anything else... a _self-deprecating_ joke, but still.

“Ah yes,” He rubbed the back of his neck – it must have been a Fereldan thing to do so – and shifted his footing. “I must apologize for that. I hope your treatment hasn't been too bad?” It sounded like he wasn't sure what to say and it had her quirking a brow. “I only mean,” He started again, waving his hands in between them. “I haven't been... treating you differently, have I? I... I didn't think I was but I'm not sure if I've offended you or anything or if –”

“No,” She cut him off with a short shake of her head and a warmth in her chest that she knew all too well. Crushing on the Cheese King _again_... damn. She thought she had finally managed to get over it... mostly. “You've treated me like anyone else and... thanks. I appreciate it.” It was so different from being back home where she was just like any other person and the oddities were few and far between.

Here she was the sole vashoth for miles... the sole female vashoth if one counted Sten as a vashoth. And, thus far, so very few treated her as anything other than a savage pack mule that had the capabilities of speech. Alistair was, thankfully, one of those few such people.

“If you ever run into trouble,” Alistair began with his footing shifting but his eyes steady. “Let me know.”

She wasn't sure what all he would be able to _do_ even if she did run into trouble but the thought was nice and she was grateful for it. Nodding, she watched as he slowly stepped closer to the group and said something that had them all dispersing. And they were moving on once more – _so much for a quiet reprieve and long conversation with Alistair._ She guessed she would have more chances to talk with him later, though, so the thought wasn't entirely troubling.

Duran looked a little smug when he rejoined her side, his widening grin and laughing eyes made her nervous, but she told herself she wasn't going to ask about it. No. She wasn't. It was walking right into a trap and she wanted no part of it all.

“Don't want to know what we found?”

“Nope,” Hissera turned her head away from Duran when she said as much, pointedly making the motion dramatic. “I don't trust that look.”

“What look?”

“ _That_ look,”

“I don't know what you're talking about; there isn't a look on my face.” The grin had widened and his eyes were beginning to crinkle at the edges from the way he was apparently trying not to laugh. “And I know you're curious. Go ahead and ask.”

“Nope – trap. It's a trap and I can just feel it.” Alistair and Era were discussing something from the front of the pack – _such as they were_ – and Hissera was momentarily distracted by the visual of them standing beside one another. So cute... Alistair and a lady elf just made sense...

Even if she had normally always paired him with a human noble... or mage.

Or a _**Surana**_. It was her favorite, next to Tabris; especially the female Surana. First Cullen then Alistair with Cullen still asking about her come Inquisition.

She was getting distracted again.

“Hold on...” Duran's hand pat against her hip before the weight – and his presence – disappeared. Her eyes took a moment to find him again – he was a spry dwarf, light and quick on his feet surprisingly in such heavy armor – and she found him by a shallow bed of water. Swamp area in swampland? Joy of joys... “There... There's...” She quirked a brow at him when he turned his head to look back at her, previous amusement gone. “ _Urtok_ , come help me.”

Vague... but OK. “What is it?” She looked back at the rest of the group before going over to him, their departure noted by Daveth only apparently. Duran frowned again when she got closer and she finally saw what it was he was talking about.

There was a body in the water... it was some sick reenactment of a _Law &Order_ episode she had surely seen a dozen times over. But there was something familiar about the clothes he was wearing...

Wait... long dead bodies weren't the same as freshly dead bodies...

**Ew...**

She didn't want to be a _rude-fuck_ and jab at the body with a stick until it was out of the water... but she also didn't want to _physically touch_ the corpse with her hands – gloves covering them be damned. Sucking in a breath, and holding it for as long as she could, she bit the proverbial bullet and followed Duran into the shallow puddle to help him roll the body out. It was gross... it was _so gross_... and she heard Era gag once whenever she paid attention to the noise around her...

And that nearly had her gagging, too.

“Who do you think it was?” The Chantry clothing was pretty unisex all-around and it left the identity of the person in question. Except... she knew it was part of an Origins' quest. She could see from the look on Era's face that she recognized the scenario, at the very least, but – with one hand pressed firmly over her mouth and nose – she was not all that willing to step closer and take charge of the situation either.

Duran looked up at her and watched her for a moment, unblinking. She didn't know what he was looking for in her eyes, but she could only hope he found his answer as he knelt beside the body and began to search the pockets and folds in the clothing. There wasn't much else they could do, what with the body not having much of a face anymore. “Here,” Duran pulled paper from the body and held it out to her – because she was the closest she was sure – and she took it from him without thinking. “What does it say?”

“It says...” She trailed off as she carefully unfolded the parchment, a little weary of it falling to pieces in her hands or even still being legible... then looked at what was written.

_Fuck. Fuck. **Fuck.**_

“Um...”

“What is it?” Duran stopped his search and turned towards her, she could feel the stares of everyone else on her then too; her face was flushing with the attention and the sudden knowledge of her having to tell them what was wrong.

She couldn't read... not this. Thedas' version of Common Tongue may have been English, but its written language was most certainly **not**. _She couldn't read it!_

“I... can't read this.” The written Common Tongue may have been something damn near everyone knew but... she didn't.

“Here, let me,” Alistair stepped forward to do so – probably thinking what she normally would have in such a situation and thought the text was smudged – and Hissera gladly relinquished the paper to him. Duran went back to riffling through the pockets of the corpse and hummed a few times low in his throat whenever he found something useful – it was the only reason she could think of for him to make such a noise. “It says his name is Jogby.” Alistair finally replied after a moment. “This was a letter addressed to him from his father, Rigby; they were to be meeting up somewhere in the Wilds. He left directions and everything.”

“Should we follow?” It was Daveth that asked.

“We have our hands full completing our own duties.” Jory. Why was she not surprised? He was turning out to be more of a dick than she thought he would be.

“We're going,” Duran's voice overrode any further arguments; his tone leaving no further discussion on the matter. He had a royal bearing about him, _naturally,_ that made it impossible to do so. “He might be in trouble this far out in the Wilds.” Well... she couldn't say he was wrong.

Even if they would get there far too late...

Hissera and Era shared a glance between each other before turning back to matters at hand. They knew what the outcomes were going to be and they knew they weren't going to be pretty. Hell, nothing about the Wilds was going to be pretty – it was like walking through an outer ring of Hell and _glimpsing_ at what was to come.

It... did not make her look forward to the next year...

“What are the directions?” Daveth started up with the questions and Hissera was still having a personal crisis with not being able to read Common. She could hardly focus on what was going on – she had certainly played it enough times whenever it had first come out – and she just wanted to get back to camp and sit down with a book and Alistair.

She needed to learn how to read all over again and she was near tears at the thought... of not being able to read anything they come across. There wouldn't be a pop-up menu appearing anytime she finds a book or letter... she just wouldn't be able to read it.

“This way,” Duran was in the lead this time, reaching out to pat her thigh as he went past, and she fell into step at his side almost unconsciously. Leading the way, he started them on their tasks once more. “Alistair, let us know if we come close to any darkspawn or towards the old Grey Warden cache.”

"Of course."

She was damn glad that Duran was going to be the one leading them to and fro... otherwise, they would have been in trouble.

Duran rattled off the first few directions, not that they would need to remember them after this particular experience, and Hissera just kept close to his side and let him lead the way... all the way to another fight.

The bridge and the hanging bodies and so many darkspawn.

She hated the Wilds already...

~~~

There was blood on her face, she could feel it. She could even feel the clumps in it that were either bits of dirt that had gathered together or were... clotted blood... She shuddered at the thought and tried to keep herself from wiping her face with her hands – they weren't in any better state and were almost completely red. She hated being a warrior... she really did. What made her think this was a good idea?

_**Seriously?!** _

“You still have your vials, _Urtok_?” Duran drew her attention away from her inner panic and minor freak-out and back to him – as if it had truly ever left him. She nodded shortly, loath to admit how ready – _how prepared_ – she was for the missions; all of them. All the Korcari Wilds' quests she could think of.

She certainly hoped she was, anyway.

“May as well get some blood here while it's still fresh,”

“You mean, while they're still bleeding and you don't have to force it out,”

“I know what I said,” Duran's narrowed eyes made Hissera crack a half-hearted smile before she rolled her shoulders and grabbed at her pack – cringing at the blood stains already covering it – and gingerly picked around what she already had stuffed in there to retrieve a few of the vials she had stashed away... wrapped up in her spare clothes.

That now, also, had blood stains on them.

Fucking great.

The hurlock with the missing head was Hissera's chosen donor, as it were, which only made sense since it was the very same one she had somehow beheaded in a fit of rage when it took a swing at Daveth with a greatsword. She was still surprised at the amount of strength she had behind her swings... but still believed that it had more to do with the battleaxe being from Flemeth than anything else.

And the fact that it was from Morrigan's dad... no telling what sort of enchantments – if any – were etched into the blade.

The blood dripped into one of the vials she held against it's neck – his if she was to guess... she thinks it was only the broodmothers that were female if she remembered correctly – and slowly filled the vial. She took note of the others doing the same – Duran had actually lifted a severed arm and squeezed it at times to get the blood flowing again as it dribbled down into his glass – and winced at the way Era had grabbed Alistair from the side of the group and had him help her with her own; the cringe on Era's own face was something she could relate to.

She managed to fill half of the one... before the blood just stopped flowing. “Shit,” She didn't want to touch the corpses but it was looking like she didn't have much of a choice in the matter, either. She tilted the torso and squeezed the shoulder area, pointedly swallowing and not looking at where her hand was when it was alarmingly close to a savage gash that Jory had made earlier in the fight, she got the blood flowing again... albeit slower than before.

“You have one filled yet?”

“Seriously? We, like, just started filling them!”

Duran's eyes rolled at her words, something she was getting the feeling was going to become quite normal, and he meandered closer to where she was, tossing the severed arm to the side as he went. “Do you think we'll reach him in time?” Oh... that's why he stopping filling his vials. Hissera frowned, glancing over at him when he moved to her side, before turning her attention back to the task at hand. She knew what he wanted to hear but... she didn't want to lie to him.

Fuck she hated lying...

“You're asking for a lot of hope this far into the Wilds... and during a Blight, at that,” Hissera started, groaning when the blood stopped again. Now there was nothing to keep her attention off of him. “You know the chances of him being alive are...” She didn't want to shatter his hope but... “They're pretty low.”

“Is there a chance, though?”

“You want me to be perfectly honest?” Duran's flat stare was answer enough, even without the nod he gave her. She could hear the conversation with Carver in the back of her head and glanced over at Era to make sure she wasn't listening. Hissera hated it... it felt like cheating. “He's already dead. We're not going to make it in time.”

“And how do you know?” His brow quirked and his frown deepened.

Hissera glanced back at Era again. She didn't like this conversation but she knew he would need the proof. “I'd seen it. Not everything is complete and I had only seen a glimpse of what all would happen here in the Wilds, but we don't make it to Rigby in time. He's already dead. There's also a powerful shade demon in need of killing out here... and there are darkspawn waiting to ambush us at the meeting spot for Jogby and Rigby... and...”

Duran's hand covered her mouth and Hissera wanted nothing more than move away from it. His hands were as blood covered as her own... and now they were on her face. Nasty...

“How do you know?” He stressed each word, his eyes narrowing as he removed his hand from her mouth.

“Magic,” The word was out and she wanted to cringe at how cliché it all was. There had to have been any number of possible answers to that question other than 'magic' – it was such an overused excuse, even in her own mind – but Hissera was going to have to deal with it. She had already answered and saying anything else would have been suspicious...

Besides... it's not like she was entirely lying... she just heavily implied that it was her magic alone that showed it to her.

“Magic,” He didn't sound as if he believed her to begin with. Not that she entirely blamed him – she barely believed it and she was the one that said it. “That's your answer.”

“Don't believe me,” She shrugged her shoulders. It wasn't like the talk with Carver in which he was willing to believe everything she said at least halfway because he knew, for a fact, that it was all at least possible because of his family. Duran was a dwarf from Orzammar. She could only assume that he had either never interacted with a magic user before or had no real idea just how much a person was capable of when they had magic at their fingertips. “You'll see. I might have missed some things but everything I've said is true.”


	13. Losing A Little Hope... And Gaining A Little Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter?!
> 
> Within a week?!
> 
> Whaaaaat?
> 
> Enjoy, my sweetlings! A^-^A

Duran stared at her for a few more moments, during which time she corked the vial she had been using – it was nearly full – and stowed it back in her bag... which _really_ meant that she opened the bag and gingerly dropped them all in there with a wince when they clinked against one another. “Alright,” Alistair's voice called over, cutting off anything Duran may have said when he began to open his mouth. “We should move on.”

Hissera resigned herself to being a silent companion for Duran for the time being, letting him think over everything she had just told him and decide for himself whether or not to believe her. Honestly, she shouldn't have told him any of it. She should have just played dumb and gone along with whatever he said and told him there was a chance...

But _**fuck**_ did she hate lying to people.

At least, the ones that _weren't_ shit-faced drunk and trying to get in her pants.

They followed the markers, though they got side-tracked at one point by Daveth who found another Wilds Flower, and found the meeting spot that had been in the letter – after several more darkspawn skirmishes and close calls and Hissera nearly _screaming_ whenever her magic lashed out and lit a darkspawn on fire right in front of her face.

There was a body lying in the center of a campsite... and there was Alistair shouting, _“Darkspawn!”_ moments before they were suddenly overrun with them.

 _Just think of it as a seriously in-depth VR game,_ she tried convincing herself. _It's got amazing graphics,_ Her axe went halfway through one of the creatures' arms and it let out an unholy screech before Alistair's blade went straight through it's skull. _It's got some surreal sound effects..._ The screech was picked up by two hurlocks that charged at them next. _And the controls are about as basic as one could get._ Her arm was moving on it's own – the fight or flight reactions rearing their ugly heads and demanding to fight – and she side-stepped in front of Alistair and swung like she was hitting a game-winning baseball.

Both heads fell with sickening slopping sounds and Hissera was moving once more to Duran's side – once she located him.

He was panting from exertion, just as she was, and he spared her a glance before looking around him again. “Here to gloat, _Urtok_?”

“There's nothing worth gloating about here,” Hissera gasped out, gulping in air before Alistair called out that there weren't any more darkspawn in the vicinity. Small mercies. “And it's not like I wanted to be right either,” She didn't. “But I won't lie to you and say there was a chance he was alive when there wasn't.”

“He was probably dead the moment we found the letter, huh,”

“More than likely,” She was glad the others were too busy looking through the camp to pay them any mind. Duran sheathed his two swords – well, his sword and dagger would be the better description – and turned his body just enough to glance up at her when she was looking down at her own weapon-of-choice with a cringe. She had **just** cleaned the blood off of it last time they had torn through a pack of darkspawn... and now she was going to have to do it again...

_Ugh..._

“Hey,” Daveth called, having been fiddling with a chest. “I've found something!” Era looked over at her, reminding her silently – with her _very expressive_ eyes – that it was another Origins quest. _Fuck Almighty_ , they just couldn't seem to catch a break...

“I'm only going to guess that this might have something to do with the Shade demon you have mentioned?”

Oh... yeah... right...

“It's possible,” She conceded.

“Not going to tell me all about it this time?”

“Not everything was clear cut,” Hissera shrugged her shoulders. “And it was a long time ago when I last saw what happened. Be happy I remember as much as I do.”

Duran huffed at her before following the others to where Daveth was... save for Era, who was making a large bee-line straight to where she was standing. _Please don't let her know I let shit slip_ , Hissera found herself silently wishing.

_Please don't let her know that I let shit slip!_

“You know what I _never_ really understood about looting shit from darkspawn,” Era started by way of greeting. “Why the Hell they sometimes carried gold with them. They literally have _no reason_ for it. They can't just walk up to a merchant and buy a set of armor.” Hissera blinked at her, more stupefied at how she hadn't been caught yet than anything, but was quick to catch up to her words and realize that she was right.

It honestly didn't make sense.

“You know, that _doesn't_ make sense,” She made a face that matched Era's. “Neither does the whole _'being able to sense darkspawn'_ thing. I mean, _I get it_ , but with it working both ways, you'd think they would have swarmed us by now since we only have one true Warden in our group.”

“But several Warden recruits,”

“ _Do you think they know that?_ ”

“ _Urtok_!” Hissera's head snapped up, Era's whipped around, their conversation on hold as Duran's voice brought her attention to him in an instant. “You ready to go demon hunting?” There was a smirk on his face, a ripped leaflet-looking book in his hand, and Hissera had never wanted to punch herself more than she did in that very moment.

She practically signed herself up for the quest the moment she mentioned it to him.

Groaning, but knowing she didn't have much of a choice if the prince truly wished to go, Hissera winced as she slung her bloody battleaxe back into its holster. “I'm ready whenever you are.” The words were spoken with a sigh but she would prefer going with him than being left behind. There seemed like there was a lot of trouble an exiled dwarven prince could get into and she was rapidly resigning herself to being the one to keep him out of it.

She could only hope that his past life as a prince would keep him from finding too much.

“What is this about demon hunting?” Alistair questioned, having still been picking through darkspawn pockets when Daveth handed the 'book' to Duran. “What demons are we talking about?”

“The Shade sort,” Duran opened the book to seemingly a random page and started to leaf through it as if he had already read it cover to cover - missing pages included. “It says here that there is one trapped not far from here in the Wilds and that merely sprinkling some ashes over its stones would awaken it.” That's _not_ how she remembered the quest going... but it had been a few years since she had last played Origins, beginning to end.

The headache was coming back and Hissera wished it had stayed gone.

“For once,” Jory started with a heaving sigh as he looked around at everyone. “I will agree that we should do something.” _Non-believer said what?_ Hissera could tell she wasn't the only one surprised by his admission. “If we leave the creature be, there may be others that will stumble upon the resting place and disturb it unknowingly and likely get themselves killed.”

“For the best of everyone, _right_ Ser Knight?” Daveth grinned over at the man, who merely shot him a look of pure exasperation. There was no telling how long he had been forced to deal with Daveth's mouth and Hissera couldn't find it in her to stop the smile from coming to her face.

She was disgusting, covered in mud and guts and blood and who knew what else; she was tired, because fuck that battleaxe was heavy and she hadn't done this much walking since Black Friday at the mall two years ago; she was scared, like Hell if she even knew if she was going to survive the Joining! There had never been any mention of a Qunari/Vashoth Warden before and...

 _Don't think about that now_ , she had to remind herself to stay in the present and Daveth's sass and Jory's aggravation was helping.

“It's settled, then,” Duran called out, striding towards the entrance to the campsite, book in hand, and tossing a glance back towards her before redirecting his gaze towards the book instead. “We're going demon hunting.”

She was getting bad vibes from all of it... but, honestly, she had been getting bad vibes since she woke up in Thedas.

“We're seriously doing this?” She quirked a brow at Era when she questioned it, standing close enough that she had possibly been the only one to hear. “It's not like this is even one of the main quests.”

“I get the feeling we're going to end up doing _a lot_ of minor quests throughout the Blight,” Because she got the feeling that half of them would have Duran wanting to help and the other half he would do just to spite her. He seemed like that kind of ass, at times. “May as well get used to doing them now rather than later.”

“We could always come back,”

“Does he _look_ like the kind of dwarf that likes to waste steps?” Era rolled her eyes at that but wasn't able to answer further because Duran was walking off again and they were scrambling to follow. Daveth was carrying quite the load, as was Alistair, and Hissera wanted to slap herself for not thinking to loot the corpses like she always did in the games.

The games never had you actually digging through a dead man's pockets with lifeless eyes looking up at you as your hands got covered in their blood and...

She was going to make herself sick again just thinking about it all in detail.

“You know, that wasn't the father we found,” Duran started in lieu of a greeting. “It was just some random soldier that had been caught alone out here.” She didn't think there was ever really a thing like _random_ in Dragon Age, although there were several times when she herself even started to think so, but she still quirked a brow in Duran's direction. “He's still out there.”

“And still dead,” She frowned back at the glare he shot her. “Don't get all huffy with me when you know I'm right. That was a _soldier_ back there – an _armed_ , _trained_ , and _very dead_ soldier. You mean to tell me that there's a chance a man of the cloth is still alive out here when darkspawn have already torn through soldiers?”

He didn't have a response to that, having turned back around, and Hissera felt bad for shredding his hope again but reminded herself firmly that it was for the best. For a dwarven prince from Orzammar, he certainly had a lot of hope in impossible situations.

He would need it... just not right then.

They got turned around twice, Alistair had been leading at the time and sheepishly handed the metaphorical reins off to Duran once he realized he did, and Hissera found herself dragging the longer they walked and wanted nothing more than to sit.

Honestly, that's all she wanted to do right then was to sit _the fuck_ down.

_This was going to be a long year..._

They did, however, finally stumble across the father... nothing was said. Duran didn't glance her way and Alistair knelt next to him long enough to close his eyes in death. They all pointedly looked away when Daveth moved closer to break open a nearby chest and riffle through the man's pockets but he was quick and they were on the move shortly after he stowed what he found in his pack.

There was time later for them to look over the discoveries, now it was time to face the horrors of false hope.

“Hand me the bag,” Duran didn't say a name, he just held out his hand and waited on his request to be met. Daveth didn't disappoint and Hissera was left standing with Alistair and Era as the prince moved closer to the pile of stones they had come across. Which looked a lot like all the other stones they had been walking past but brighter... if that even made sense. _She really needed to pee..._

And now was a terrible time to discover that.

Hot, _hot, hot, **hot, hot.**_

_**Fuck.** _

She was sweating in an instant and fucking hated it, the shade demon roared – _screeched?_ – at them, the sound a ear-splitting mix of the two noises, and lunged towards Duran just as Hissera pulled out her battleaxe. Time slowed down, in the sickening way it had been doing all that day, and noise faded, and her vision sharpened. Alistair was sliding in front of Duran with his shield out and her breath was coming back to her much smoother again.

If this was what being a Berserker was like... it was _nauseating_. 

The world started to fade again, the red was coming back, when an arrow whizzed past her head and planted itself in the shade's arm and it turned its attention towards the shooter.

 _Era_... She was behind her.

Like **Hell** it was getting through her to get to the small elf, either.

Fire licked at her skin – _hot, **hot, HOT**_ – and her vision was going out again. Only difference was, Hissera had always fought against the darkness. She didn't like the way she blacked out during the fights and was only able to think once the fighting was over. Now? Fucker was going for her friend, had already made to attack both Duran and Alistair, and she...

Let go.

Red swarmed her vision – flooding it, consuming it – and Hissera let go gladly. She could hear a roar, a boom of thunder, she felt warm air on her face and something scalding on her knuckles for the briefest of moments, and then she felt an icy chill running over her shoulders and down her arms and over her hands; like someone had just dumped ice cubes over her.

There was a _scream_ , it might have been hers... or the demon's... she wasn't sure. All she knew was that when her vision cleared and the feeling of having fingers and toes she could move on her own returned to her, _she wished it hadn't._

“Did...” She was gulping in air as if it was the only thing sustaining her; which wasn't _wrong_ , but still. “Did we... win?” She lifted a hand to her head, wincing and groaning and wanting to cry at the motion when pain lanced through her, and squeezed her eyes shut before looking around her. “I get the feeling, we did.” Compulsively licking her lips, and hating herself for it again since it only got blood and dirt in her mouth and left a nasty taste behind, Hissera met Duran's gaze – he was the one in front of her after all – and waited on him to tell her the news.

He made a show of looking around him before nodding slowly. “Yeah... I'll say we did.”

“ _How long have you had magic?_ ”

What?

Her thoughts might have still been fuzzy but that sounded more like an _angry accusation_ that anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> Story Scenes Are Up If You Wanna Check Them Out; Some Will Be Used - Others Will Be Tossed.
> 
> Nothing Is Set In Stone. But You Will Get A Better Feel For The Story.
> 
> *A^-^A*
> 
> \-- And If You Wanna Request Any Weird-Ass Scenes... I'M GAME!


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